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Nonsensical Babblings of the New Environmentalists

Written by Carol McClendon
Thursday, 29 June 2006

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There is a strange epidemic I have become more alarmingly aware of, which I can only assume is due to some strange neurological morphology beyond my basic, ninth grade science (and absolutely refusing to dissect the piglet) brain. Actually, I do believe that I can liken this plague to a cancer, a disease if you will…the nonsensical babblings of the new environmentalist.

Now, I have been an activist for many, many years with many an environmental group. I have donated hundreds to Greenpeace, the Sierra Club, the World Wildlife fund, etc. I recycle, I buy earth and animal friendly and I boycott the bigots and the polluters like any good yippy should. Oh, yippy? My girlfriend’s loving and oh so, you’re a hippy who rides on leather, nickname for me which is a hybrid cross between a hippy and a yuppie. So, yes, she’s calling me a hypocrite and a sellout all in the same breath. God, how I love that woman!

So, yesterday, I left work, picked up my daughter from school, went and skinned half of my ass on the metal slide at the park, held and aimed her above the toilet seat in a public city bathroom, in a public city park, took her home and began gathering her 9 million things that a four year old needs to have every day at school from my back seat and began walking with her inside. I was carrying a backpack, some flip flops, a lunch box, 2 drawings that were VERY IMPORTANT and could not be bent in any way or left in the car, 2 dolls, a water bottle, my purse, car keys and something that I think was once a piece of cheese, but I’m not really sure, when I heard a voice behind me.

“What?” I said as I turned around, balancing the load of my daughter’s collective. I think at that point I may have dropped the cheese.

“Do you have time to answer some questions?” the very young, very curly haired, not wearing deodorant in the middle of summer in Texas, hippy girl with the clip board said. She looked down for a moment in curiosity as my daughter decided the cheese needed to be investigated.

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” was what went through my mind in regards to both the girl’s oblivion to my balancing act of the motherhood kind and the fact that my child had now touched the cheese. Remembering that I once went door to door begging for signatures to save something myself, I instead answered, “Of course. What do you want me to sign?”

The young, stinky girl who needed to learn more about personal hygiene and less about saving the world began her spiel. Apparently, there is a computer company, a rather large and successful computer company that has been selling computers forever. Now that computers have become “abundant” there is a growing need to recycle the technology.

“Okay,” I thought, “I can appreciate this.” I myself have driven over many a pothole that was repaired by recycled computers. Also, as an IT professional (I think this term is stupid and annoying by the way), there are a great many computers I know I wished to recycle by being smashed into a million pieces and thrown, in a great flaming mass from my office window and into the parking lot below. Where do I sign?

Oh, but wait. She then tells me that apparently, the recycling of old computers causes pollution.

GASP! No…not pollution from recycling!

Yes, for those of you who don’t know, in order to recycle some products, like, oh, I don’t know, PLASTIC, requires melting which releases poisonous gases into the atmosphere, and other pesky little things like that which cause pollution.

Hey! It’s the lesser of two evils…poisonous gases? Or massive landfill? No one gets to decide really, just go with your conscience.

So, this group that the hippy girl represents is asking that said computer company sell you your computer and then when you decide you don’t want it anymore, they (the dense ones) want the computer company to cover the cost of recycling its product that you bought and used until you tired of it.

“Wait,” I said, almost stunned from the stupidity of it. “Okay, you want them to pay for the recycling of their computers?”

“Yes! It is very simple for them to recycle parts and reuse them in new computers…”

“Uh, wait,” I interrupted. “Now, I am all for saving the planet and everything, Alex, put down the cheese and find something to do!

Ahem, I also work in technology and I have to stop you there. You know that computer that I just bought at the store 15 minutes ago? Well, it became obsolete about 7 minutes ago. Seriously, I would laugh at someone if they said I was going to get an old recycled hard drive in my new PC. I would laugh at them. Hard. And then I would look at them like the idiot that they obviously thought I was.

No, it’s not going to happen. Anyway, do you have any idea what you are even saying with this? Did you guys already ask Coke if they would pay for recycling cans and bottles?”

Stunned, she looked at me as if I were wearing an orange hunting jacket and had the stench of beer on my breath, which would have been better than her body odor. I think she was frightened.

“You know, no one has asked me that yet. No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. They would have laughed at you.

"What about automakers? Did you ask them to cover the cost of disposing of their VERY large cars that people buy, or to pay for the oil that needs to be disposed of, or parts, or anything that has to do with owning and keeping up with a car?

Huh? Huh? Huh?”

“Um…no. I don’t think so,” she said shrinking. “But it causes pollution for these computers to be recycled and we want the computer company to pay for the recycling. It would barely cost anything for them to…”

“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea the amount of precious metals that need to be harvested? A tiny little amount but they have to pay someone to do that. The plastics, the parts, the work force to employ, the trucks for hauling and on and on and on…”

“Wow, I guess I never really thought about that. But it would still be good for the environment rather than dumping these into a landfill,” she seemed to be gathering her courage.

“You guys have got to get it together. You need to pick your battles and spend your money on something that will actually happen and that people really care about. If you guys go to court, or this goes before committee somewhere, the environment will be completely lost in this scenario. The cost to the manufacturer will be the first issue and the trickle down to the consumer for the cost of the recycling will be the second. You bought it, you take care of it. No one goes after the manufacturer of anything else except toner, and don’t you think that cost is built in? Come on! Don’t flood the world with EVERY LITTLE THING that is wrong. My God, people. What happened to protecting old growth rainforests which contribute to the world’s water supply or saving the whales or protecting that one frickin’ salamander at Barton Springs Pool? Ack! Focus! You people lack the forethought to realize that you must pool your resources to really fight the issues like the entire state of Florida and…”

As I ranted and raved at my clueless victim for what must have been 20 minutes with Alex walking around her in circles, singing “Three Little Fishes” and playing with melted cheese, my new hippy friend stood there sweating in the intense Texas heat, mouth agape and probably questioning her very existence. I think she may have developed a nervous tick along the way because I could swear I saw her eye twitching.

“…and that’s why people can rub whale sperm all over their butts in hopes of tightening their fat asses that they sit on all day in their comfy chairs watching TV and eating McDonald’s. I’m not signing that,” I finally said, as I looked at her sweat soaked clip board and her white knuckles clutching it, tightly, against her chest and let out an exasperated sigh.

I stood there for a second, realizing what I had just done and said, “Wow, I guess you had no idea the hornet’s nest you were walking into when you stopped me did you?”

“Not really,” she said, half smiling and backing away. “Today is my first day.”