Don't apologize, you're my new hero! I had some droner dropping his flying spy cam all over me and my cousin, reuniting after years of separation, at Waterfront Park one day and we spent half our conversation being annoyed by its constant sound and wishing we could shoot the thing down. In limited circumstances, drones can be useful, save when you're looking for an isolated Amazonian tribe or looking for weed in Afghanistan, but a lot of the owners are the same socially challenged groups of woman-repelling nerds that have ruined everything in recent years from bars where they stare at their phones instead of shooting pool to Congress where they climb over each other in a race to become the next dictator of America. Feel free to slingshot geese poop at all drones from now on, and when you do, know that all who seek refuge from the ever-growing onslaught of People Who Don't Talk to People But Nonetheless Ruin Everything will praise you in their hearts.

I'm pretty sure it's okay to yell at anyone who operates magic carpet spy cams in a park for fun instead of, you know, playing frisbee or walking a dog, as it's the most human contact they might have had since the old lady in Apt. B-4 mistook them for William Taft and wondered why the president was wearing a 'Who Farted?' T-shirt as he dragged a slightly broken bag of used kitty litter past her door.