Summertime Rules: Litter Bugs 2006

 

I've been hedging about whether or not to write this. Mostly, because it seems like common, elemental sense. Simply put: Don't fucking litter, assholes!

We live in the city, on a pretty busy corner (by the third largest city in Pennsylvania standards). And, we are forever picking up various bottles and candy wrappers off the lawn, sidewalk, and curb. It seems those with poor diets litter most, because it is ALWAY absolute crap floating/rolling around. Seriously, when is the last time you saw someone drop the plastic bag from spinach out their car window as opposed to a Doritos bag? I figure this: if you drop it 'cos you don't care enough about someone's property or about the Good Ol' Earth, in general... then, I should be able to run after you and attach said garbage to your person with a gunpowder powered nail-gun. You wouldn't care if I did that, right? Seriously, what the fuck!?!? Are you that depressed and lazy, or some sort of prophet-that-sees-the-world-ending-tomorrow-so-who-cares type of person? Sad thing is, some people ARE that lazy. "Whaddya mean I have to carry this .0001 oz. empty potato chip bag one more block so I can throw it away in some sort of receptacles? Dude! I can't! It is like 90-fucking-degrees outside, and I need my free hand to dig into this Snickers bar."

As I get older and reach for my Nana-years, I see it as some sort of pre-pube middle finger. Like, I've suddenly become "The Man" and littering on my property is like burning the flag in some sort of revolt against me sitting on my front porch drinking a Pabst. And, yes, the apocalypse is coming... but I always envisioned us drowning in a flaming sea of stupidity not in the trash compactor from Star Wars.

This is the particular situation that finally set me off: we went to an air show this past weekend. Which, on a side note, was so overly patriotic that it makes you wanna fuck the flag, and feel like a dirty whore for doing it. Anyway, on one of my many pregnant lady trips to the bathroom, I walked by these guys standing in front of their "trikes" (get a real motorcycle, please). And just as I passed by, one guy kicked an empty Mountain Dew bottle outta his path into mine. So, of course, I said: "Oh, HEY! Let me get that and throw it away for you." Sure, make the overheated pregnant lady with a sunburn bend over... and he replied with his arms crossed, "It's not mine." I was confused for a moment, before my aggravated brain thought, "I don't care if it fucking is the most crustiest leper on the planet's! Pick the damn thing up! There's a trash can not 10 feet from you. Or are your hemorrhoids (from riding an adults' version of an toddler's toy) flaring up!?!?!" But, instead, I replied, "You know, I'll throw it away anyway." NOT mine! Geeesh! It makes my me wish I had a GG Allin on a leash that I could walk around and command, "Take a dump in front of this guy." And, then when that guy says, "Hey, what the hell!" I'd say, "Oh, man. That's not mine. It's GG's." I picked GG Allin 'cos he liked to poop, you know.

We went to the Steam Engine show the day before the air show. It was, what most would say, out in the sticks. You know what? The only litter I saw was a trash can that had over-flowed. And, not five minutes after I noticed it, some guy in a pick-up stopped and started scooping it all up. Sure, he might have been collecting cans (one man's trash is another man's treasure), but so what. It was off the ground. I'm not gonna stereotype, but maybe the Amish and career agriculturalists don't litter as much because they realize the land is an investment. I guess that fact was driven home in the Dust Bowl years. Plus, I suppose you can more easily burn your trash if you have those couple extra 100 acres... as opposed to burning your trash on your front porch in the city (I do not recommend).

Unfortunately, as urban sprawl sprawls, I think more littler will be blowing around in empty parking lots. But, I can't settle myself to that.

Don't they smack you upside the face with a board in Germany if you litter or spit on the side walk? Don't they do that somewhere? Wherever it is... I like it there.

Also, after spending two days at outdoor events... making numerous trips to the Port-a-Potties to empty my compressed bladder, I have a general suggestion. If you have severe diarrhea, don't go to an outdoor event. And, if you have to drag your dehydrating body out anyway, stick to one stall instead of spraying your ass like a poo-cano in EVERY SINGLE john. I figure it must be just one or two people, because I can't believe THAT a small army of people can leave their homes confidentially when they are suffering from (as my mom calls it) the Squirts. Along with that, may I suggest that if you are truly broke and can't afford beer that doesn't chew up your intestines the next day, get a bottle of Mad Dog and suck on a morphine patch... the morphine should bind you RIGHT UP! Or just switch to smoking glass... it seems expensive at first, but last longer. Anything to keep the Port-a-Potties cleaner.

 

- Melissa Sullivan