Monday, October 01, 2018

Cigs. yuk.

Cigs. yuk. Buskers are resourceful and on the street. I am dialed in on all the street treasures so much I can eagle spot them from 10 feet up on my bike. I know how to move a cig box on the ground with my tire without running it over to feel if it's full.
People often carry money and ID in the cig boxes. If I see an ID on anything I will return it all to whomever or drop it in a mail box. When I get just the cigs I usually destroy them. That comes with a moral dilemma as well. I want to be helping low income people and this flips that script.

On one hand it's the product of a company who's fortunes come from decades of poisoning Americans and misleading them with ad's and political lobbying. Personally. just being anywhere around a lit cig sends me gagging. On the other hand cigs are expensive item addicted people need everyday. Electricity was spent manufacturing it and even more poisonous diesel fuel was spent trucking it here.
I used to hand them over to the bums but then I realized I was essentially poisoning the air of everyone walking by as they sit outside. So what do I do with them?




This moring I took my latest find to the spot where I smoked my last cig (circa 2015). The break area where the line-cooks smoke behind Concordia Ale house. It was closed.
I didn't want to just leave them there because I really don't want any Shorties to find them and start a tobacco career. I'm going to just keep these on me. When I see some employees of something taking a butt break I get to miracle them. I know who to look for, I used to be a dishwasher. :)

No comments:

Sorry I forgot your birthday song.