Vanity of Humanity

I don't think I'm supposed mention that today is "blog action day" and that that is the reason for my post. You're supposed to just come to the blog formerly known as Low Rollin' for your daily stimulation, and have an activist seed planted in your mind heart. The topic for today's blog action is the environment. Blogs of all stripes are encouraged to write about anything to do with the environment. Of course, the instigators of Blog Action Day surely assume that the usual drivel about "saving the Earth" and whatnot will be written about. You know, a continuation of the slow drip, drip, drip indoctrination of the whacko, lame-brained environmentalist chicken-littles.

That's not how I roll.

So, the former Vice President and Biggest LOSER of the 2000 election had to do something with his life, so he decided to take some boring slide-show about the horrors of fossil fuels and and CFC's on the road. At some point, a documentary film-maker made a movie out of said boring slide show. Boring slide show made into documentary eventually made it to theaters and was the toast of the intellectual elite and Democrat Party fund-raisers. It won trophies at Cannes and the Academy Awards. No surprises there.

Then (and this is really no surprise either), boring slide show presenter was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, sharing it with some "United Nations committee on the global warming crisis." No surprise, really, since the Nobel committee has pretty much cemented their legacy of "Peace Prizes" by awarding them to people like Yassar Arafat and Jimmy Carter. Who next? A post mortem prize to Che Guevara? What a joke. Thankfully, there are some smarter people out there, un-willing to drink the Kool-Aid of the moonbat Left.

So to do my little part on the subject of the environment, I make a pledge to you, dear reader. Starting today, until the 2008 Nobel Peace Prize is awarded, I will not recycle a damn thing in my household. Mind you, I did it voluntarily. I had a box in the garage where all the newspapers, magazines, various cardboard boxes, etc. were collected, then I dutifully trudged them down to the local recycling drop-off. Heck, there were even times when there was a plastic bottle or two that went along for the ride.

No more, my friends.

It all goes in the trash can, straight to the landfill.

Happy Blog Action day to you.

Warmest Regards,
AxeMan

*Update*
Today was trash day at Casa d'Axe. You know what that meant:


The word for today is: Liberating

(You're) Motorin'

When B-Rad approached me with the idea of killing off this humble corner of the web, I simply replied, "Kill it." I'm glad he decided against it, though I'm not really sure what I plan to do with my newly granted administrative priveleges. I'm not one to pour out my inner-most thoughts to many - much less on the not-so-anonymous web.

Some might be surprised that as a youth, I was a rather rabid follower of the political goings-on in the country. I thought it was good to be up on the issues, and as I was rather youthful, I thought it bode well for my future as a father and such. How ironic, then, that by the time I actually had kids, I could pretty much give a rats-ass what was going on day-to-day in DC. The Clinton years pretty much wore me down, and though it would be a few more years until George W. Bush was elected, by then, I felt that things were looking up. After all, adults were back in the White House. Don't get me wrong, I vote in the elections (to include primaries and mid-terms), and such, but that's pretty mucy the extent of my involvement in the political process.

So, maybe this isn't really political, but as I was out driving the paved roads of G-Vegas today, I came upon a vehicle at a stop light, and it caught my eye: it was a Prius hybrid. The car of choice of the left-wing do-gooder. The car that does nothing to help the environment, but let's the owner pat himself on the back whenever he needs an ego boost. I know I've seen a few before, but something intrigued me this time. It was a car length or so in front of me, in the next lane, I couldn't help but wonder who was driving it. There were three or four red-lights in the upcoming stretch, so I was confident that I'd see the driver at some point. (This is the point where I mention that his left turn signal was on, implying he wanted to make a lane-change. Not today, buddy. Or crunchy chick.)

Then I saw it - the drivers window was own, arm dangling out. Dangling... dangling... dangling... a cigarette. I could now narrow it down - seeing the hairy appendage, I could deduce that there was an 85% chance that the driver was a male. 15% that it was a crunchy chick. As traffic began moving, I confirmed that there was an older male pressing the pedal to the Li-Ion cells. Crunchy little wife in the passenger seat. Fuzzy, yellow dice hanging from the mirror. Yes, fuzzy yellow dice.

So we're at the next red light, and it happened. Yet again, Mr. Environmentally Conscious is in the lane to the right of me, car-length a head and he takes a drag on the cigarette, dangles his arm out one last time... and drops the smoking butt on the ground. Money shot!

This bugs the hell out of me. I really don't have as big of a problem smokers as others, but I don't want to pull up to any of the many medians around the Upstate, and see where they have emptied their ashtrays into the streets. There are places I've seen with thousands of cigarette butts laying around. And I don't want to see them thrown from their windows going down the road, either.

Then it occurred to me that I've heard commercials promoting clean roads in South Carolina and some hotline to call when you see someone litter, so I jotted down Mr. Prius' tag number and the next time I was in front of the laptop, did a search and came up with this. I looked all over the page for an online form to report the errant butt and, finding none, realized that I was actually going to have to pick up the phone, dial a number to report it. Jeez, what next? Am I going to have to actually have to talk to a live person and tell them that some bozo threw a cigarette butt out his window?

Yes and yes. And, yes I did.

After all that effort on my part, Mr. Holier Than Thou Pius Hybrid Owner is going to be getting this in the mail, informing him that he's a litterbug.

I just hope he gets it the same day his car payment is due, Al Gore hits him up for a political donation - and his Prius battery dies an untimely death.

God Save the Queen

Really, folks. Thanks for all of the concern, but me and the Queen are still on real good terms.

Serendipity

So, many moons ago I was playing some mid-afternoon poker and as is so often the case in the high-stakes world of $.25/.50 NL, some smack-talk was going down in the chat-box. On this day, it was because of the name of one of the players: GabeKapler. The screenname bore a striking resemblance to a major league baseball player by the name of... Gabe Kapler. The smack-talker kept after Kapler, quizzing him on how he could be online playing poker at this time of day - a gameday, no less. Kapler politely answered the guy's questions - and kept playing his game. Finally, Mr. Googler was satisfied that it was, indeed, Mr. Kapler - Boston Red Sox outfielder.

Which brings me to this morning's G-Vegas News, and the headline at the top of the sports page: Kapler Hired as Drive Manager. For the uninitiated, the Drive is our local minor league, single A baseball team, afiliated with the Boston Red Sox. The team is housed in a classy, mini-replica of Fenway Park. Complete with mini-Green Monster.

Welcome Back, Kapler