A few minutes ago, I was sitting on my porch smoking a cigar when a shattering noise was heard in the wake of a passing (speeding) car. It proved to be an empty bottle of Miller High Life. I went inside, got the broom and dustpan, and cleaned up the large chunks as best I could, adding other bits of trash that had collected since yesterday, when I mowed and cleaned the perimeter.
I’ve no special buts of wisdom to offer on this topic. Since time began, responsible citizens have been obliged to tidy up after irresponsible assholes, and so it goes. One accepts it as part of the burden of being human, which includes the cherished right to procreate at will, irrespective of the consequences.
Still, questions do occur to me.
How come an examination of the remains of bottles tossed from passing cars by assholes never reveals a Chimay, Schlenkerla or Thomas Hardy’s label?
Is it because they understand the need to decant good beers and refrain from quaffing directly from the bottle, but are unwilling to challenge the open container law by carrying proper glassware in their cars?
Unlikely. I gotta go bike to work, and dodge those SUVs along the way.
