Recycle Bin

Greetings, loyal minions. Your Maximum Leader was setting up an HP printer that his sainted parents bought for Villainette #1 for Christmas. While prepping the printer for setup he was instructed to remove a little orange plastic plug and put it in the recyling bin. (These instructions were pictographic instructions on a nice piece of paper that came in the printer box.)

That was when it struck him.

Why the hell does everything go into a recylcing bin? What is wrong with a good old fashioned trash can? A real nice old fashioned trash can that was round, tapering slightly towards the bottom, and painted olive drab. One you could light a fire in and not worry about melting your trash can. There were no little circley arrows all over it. It wasn’t blue. You didn’t put it on the curb for a special pick up.

Back in the day, your trash can was a functional metal container. When it was full you emptied it into a larger functional metal container. When Monday and/or Thursday came around you took the big container to the street and a big stinky truck came and took the contents away. (Or if you live in the country, you took the container(s) to the county dump every other Saturday. While at the dump you made sure to say hi to Larry. Larry is the guy at the dump gate who checks the county sticker on cars as they drive in. Larry is the guy protecting your tax dollars and valuable dump space. Larry is there to make sure some low-life from the next - less upscale - county a few miles over didn’t try to muscle in on your dump. Larry may only make about $22,000 a year, but Larry provides a valuable service to you and your fellow county dwellers. Hats off to you Larry…)

Trash cans didn’t used to come in designer colours. They didn’t match the soap dish and the shower curtain in your bathroom. A real trash can is bigger than a Kleenex box. (Your Maximum Leader can’t fucking abide by trash cans that are “full” after receiving one or two snotty tissues. He’d like to find the bastard who “invented” the small waste basket and shove one up his arse.) Riddle your Maximum Leader this, when did “waste baskets” shrink to the size of a small-headed Turk’s fez? Your Maximum Leader would like to know. If he needed a small waste basket he would have saved a frickin’ coffee can.

Now everything goes in “Recyle Bins.” Your Maximum Leader’s dear Villainettes even talk about the recycling bin. It s crazy. When did it happen that everything should be recycled? Snotty tissues. Used diapers. “Feminine Hygene products.” That stuff shouldn’t be recycled. It should be atomized. Who wants to buy a greeting card that is 7.53% recycled tampon?

Do you know what’s the most insidious recycle bin? Of course you do. It is the one in the Windows Operating System. Stuff just sits in it until you tell it to empty itself. You’re not really getting rid of anything you put in it. And you’re not recycling it either. That code, those old pics your boyfriend took of you naked at the beach, that stupid poem you wrote in Word, the spreadsheet you tried to use to balance your checkbook… All that crap is sitting in your Windows recycle bin. It just sits there. It doesn’t get magically reused by other elements of Windows or some other application. It just sits there. In the recycle bin. Waiting. Waiting to be erased.

Waiting to be erased… Just like this post…

Carry on.

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Musings about the Round File

Our dear Maximum Leader is quite perturbed over the size and shape of his trash can. I shall assume he is only referring to waste paper bins and that it is not some euphemism for parts below the border….Nonetheless, the fervor with which he att…

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