Thursday is garbage day in my neighborhood. Between the recycling, yard waste and the actual refuse-collecting trucks, there is a constant parade of hurdy gurdy-ing diesel engines and air brakes parading up and down starting at 7:00 in the morning. The seemingly infinite number of them blocking the narrow streets of the neighborhood often stand in your way of reaching a major thoroughfare.
Imagine my surprise when, inching along behind a truck this morning, I noticed it was decorated with multiple didactic directives:
For a closer look:
Is it just this particular garbage truck admonishing the domestic abusers who might be encroaching on its slow-moving self? Or does the entire city of LA badge their sanitation trucks with the Futures Without Violence-sanctioned bumper stickers? And if so, was this something they discussed at a staff meeting? "Let's use our influential platform - the back of a garbage truck - to see if we can make a difference in society." I'll have to keep my eyes peeled on Thursdays to find out.
Frankly, if I'm a wife-beating dirtbag, I just don't know how powerfully I'm going to be swayed not to raise my fist by a sticker I see on the back of a garbage truck. But who knows. I certainly don't. I've never hit anyone in my life... not even sure I'd know how. Meanwhile, I have bigger problems. My dishwasher's broken and it's pissing me off, and my roommate hasn't been doing the dishes... and it just makes me SO mad that one of these days I'm just going to haul off and--- oh, shit. Never mind. There's a garbage truck.
Sincerely,
Dear Crabby
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