One Mans Trash An Observation

It’s funny how if you put the word “free” in front of something almost worthless, it becomes an irresistible commodity.

I stepped outside the other day and became witness to a state of near panic. Traffic was blocked for a half mile in either direction in front of my home on Dalton Ave. Several cars almost collided trying to cut each other off at the entrance of a certain overrated donut franchise across the street.

And what were they giving away that could cause such pandemonium? A cure to the next Asian-bred super epidemic? Barrels of crude oil? A bucket of lobster tails, at least?

No.

Cold coffee! You know, that nasty sludge with a taste reminiscent of morning vomit after a hard night’s drinking. That bitter surprise you get sometimes when you pour a cup without first inquiring as to the time it was brewed.

I could scarcely believe my eyes as hordes of the city’s fat and ignorant flocked from all directions for a free taste of something nobody should ever have to pay for.

It just goes to show, you could probably give away needles full of AIDS blood and somebody, somewhere, would still want it.

End sermon.