Green Day

God drives a green truck and works for Pick-a-Part.

Pick-a-Part God took away two of the three old cars lurking on the property today. G-Day.

Another minor battle is won.

Of course, recycling vehicles through somewhere like Pick-a-Part means that not only is it free to remove dead vehicles, but they aren't ending up in a landfill somewhere. Unlike so much other rubbish generated by people in this town. You see, we don't have inorganic rubbish collections.

Inorganic collections are neat for the people-not-too-far-from-me who like to amass junk, and great for people who want other people's cast-offs, cos some of those rich bastards throw out stuff that has nothing wrong with it, like one of the step-family who threw out a good camcorder simply because he didn't want it any more.

But that's what you get being a poor little rich boy who never wanted for anything - a complete lack of grasp of the fundamentals of re-utilising the resources already manufactured, instead of dumping things for the hell of it and creating a need for more resources to provide more plastic video toys.

I loathe spoiled rich brats almost as much as I hate waste.

But back to the inorganic rubbish collections, shortly after the last one our city council held, an employee at the local transfer station told me that there wouldn't be any more because it cost over $100,000 for no return and was too expensive. Of course there was no return, everything was thrown into a big truck and smashed up, instead of being dealt with carefully and the good stuff (that hadn't been scabbed over already) being offered for sale at the Transfer Station shop. Even our bloody council is clueless, preferring to pay to truck refuse out of the area for disposal rather than let anything useful be recycled back into the community.

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On a more positive note, Flattie is floating just short of ceiling height since about 9.15am this morning when I confirmed that I had bought their tickets for Bob Dylan. Just between you and me (don't tell Flattie) I almost wish I was going too.


And today is not only the anniversary of the Battle of Normandy D-Day, it's also B-Day for Miriam, way over there in Melbourne. Happy Birthday Em, love ya heaps, 43 isn't so bad once ya get used to it. Really, it's not



This post has been brought to you by the letters G, D and B, and the number 43.