Ifs Ands and Butts
Lowell and Perry are at it again, sitting on the dock of the bay, Manatee Bay, having a toke, and Perry is morose as usual. This time it's about all the cigarette butts that have washed up on shore.
"Leave it to Big Tobacco to trash the world," grumbles Perry. "You never saw a pot head who littered like this," he complains.
"That's true," nods Lowell. "Unlike cigarettes, weed is au natural."
"I was down at Albertson's last week," says Perry, careful to stub out his joint and replace it in his pocket. "They have these Mexicans to sweep up the parking lot, but they miss a lot."
"How do you mean?" asks Lowell, fishing out a netful of cigarette filters that have clustered around his dock piling. He's long since given up on catching any edible fish, but sometimes nets come in handy.
"There was this stiff breeze coming in off the Gulf. It was blowing all this small stuff the sweepers miss up against the curb on the other side of the parking lot. It was piled up like a berm against the curb, about four inches deep. It was all cigarette butts, man, and there must've been thousands of 'em. Tens of thousands."
"Probably only a year's supply or so, for the shoppers," points out Lowell. "You have only yourselves to blame, you know," he adds.
Perry, who is Native American, shakes his head. "No way. We may have introduced tobacco to the colonist occupiers, but we only used it for ceremonies, and we didn't make plastic filters that are non-biodegradable like all this shit."
"So the problem is with the plastic filters?"
"Sure. I read it in the New York Times. Paper and tobacco will degrade, eventually, although they are full of other poisons, like nicotine and benzene, and cadmium. Which is why there's no more fish, by the way. But these plastic filters are forever, man."
"That's a bummer." Lowell kicks at the water, angrily. It kicks back.
"I talked to this lady there. She was wearing a business suit. Reminded me of your friend Detective Bedrosian."
"Lena? Was she there?"
"No, it wasn't her, or I'da ragged her tight little ass for not writing some tickets for litterin'. But this woman, a banker or something, she loads all these plastic bottles and glass and newspapers and shit into the recycling bin, you know? And she's smoking a Benson & Hedges. Which she then chucks on the pavement like it's nothing at all, and walks away. So I ask her, 'hey, home come you do all this recycling and then you trash the place?"
"And?"
"And she gives me this look, like she doesn't know what I'm talking about. It's like cigarette butts are exempt from litter laws. They don't count, because they're small, see. So then she says, 'Oh, I thought they were biodegradable.' Bullshit. Since when is plastic biodegradable? So she lights up another and goes off in a huff, before I can show her that pile of butts by the curb."
"That reminds me," says Lowell. "Next week is Beach Cleanup Week. Most of what we pick up every year is cigarette butts, actually, now that you mention it."
"Maybe we can lobby the legislature to make them recyclable," suggests Perry. "Maybe we could go into the used butts business. Ten cents a pound, and they get turned into newspaper."
"No good. Nobody reads newspapers any more," says Lowell, sadly. "Maybe soft drink containers? Or Big Mac wrappers?"
"Sure," says Perry. "Then they'll end up on the beach all over again. Then you can pick those up next year, and recycle them into washing machines or gravestones or something."
Lowell nods, thoughtfully. "What goes around comes around," he says. "Are we out of beer?"
"Leave it to Big Tobacco to trash the world," grumbles Perry. "You never saw a pot head who littered like this," he complains.
"That's true," nods Lowell. "Unlike cigarettes, weed is au natural."
"I was down at Albertson's last week," says Perry, careful to stub out his joint and replace it in his pocket. "They have these Mexicans to sweep up the parking lot, but they miss a lot."
"How do you mean?" asks Lowell, fishing out a netful of cigarette filters that have clustered around his dock piling. He's long since given up on catching any edible fish, but sometimes nets come in handy.
"There was this stiff breeze coming in off the Gulf. It was blowing all this small stuff the sweepers miss up against the curb on the other side of the parking lot. It was piled up like a berm against the curb, about four inches deep. It was all cigarette butts, man, and there must've been thousands of 'em. Tens of thousands."
"Probably only a year's supply or so, for the shoppers," points out Lowell. "You have only yourselves to blame, you know," he adds.
Perry, who is Native American, shakes his head. "No way. We may have introduced tobacco to the colonist occupiers, but we only used it for ceremonies, and we didn't make plastic filters that are non-biodegradable like all this shit."
"So the problem is with the plastic filters?"
"Sure. I read it in the New York Times. Paper and tobacco will degrade, eventually, although they are full of other poisons, like nicotine and benzene, and cadmium. Which is why there's no more fish, by the way. But these plastic filters are forever, man."
"That's a bummer." Lowell kicks at the water, angrily. It kicks back.
"I talked to this lady there. She was wearing a business suit. Reminded me of your friend Detective Bedrosian."
"Lena? Was she there?"
"No, it wasn't her, or I'da ragged her tight little ass for not writing some tickets for litterin'. But this woman, a banker or something, she loads all these plastic bottles and glass and newspapers and shit into the recycling bin, you know? And she's smoking a Benson & Hedges. Which she then chucks on the pavement like it's nothing at all, and walks away. So I ask her, 'hey, home come you do all this recycling and then you trash the place?"
"And?"
"And she gives me this look, like she doesn't know what I'm talking about. It's like cigarette butts are exempt from litter laws. They don't count, because they're small, see. So then she says, 'Oh, I thought they were biodegradable.' Bullshit. Since when is plastic biodegradable? So she lights up another and goes off in a huff, before I can show her that pile of butts by the curb."
"That reminds me," says Lowell. "Next week is Beach Cleanup Week. Most of what we pick up every year is cigarette butts, actually, now that you mention it."
"Maybe we can lobby the legislature to make them recyclable," suggests Perry. "Maybe we could go into the used butts business. Ten cents a pound, and they get turned into newspaper."
"No good. Nobody reads newspapers any more," says Lowell, sadly. "Maybe soft drink containers? Or Big Mac wrappers?"
"Sure," says Perry. "Then they'll end up on the beach all over again. Then you can pick those up next year, and recycle them into washing machines or gravestones or something."
Lowell nods, thoughtfully. "What goes around comes around," he says. "Are we out of beer?"
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