Momma Drama

For those who actually read and follow this blog, you will have noticed that an entry was not made for Sunday, September 26^th.  When the No. 2 pencil I write with becomes a sixth finger on the hand, it is a sign to step back and take a short break.  Okay, so obviously I was just putting on a front in that last statement.  In all actuality, the ideas in my head were far and few between, and the ones that did stop by didn’t pose as a group of Jehovah’s Witnesses.  If you have ever been confronted by one of these groups, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  Once you let them in your house, they will pitch a tent and will stay until forever comes.  I’d say that they are like the government, but at least you can vote the politicians in Washington to expire after a long, dusty shelf life-- which is unheard of with these folks.  U-Turns are permitted in scripting, so I am going to do as such and navigate my writing toward a subject that was for its intended purpose.  I wasn’t sure where I was going with that topic anyway except for out in the middle of nowhere, beating it and leaving it for dead. 

I spent some time visiting with Mother Earth last weekend and found some habits that she dabbles in to be quite astonishing.  It was as astonishing as the FBI agents who were caught cheating on an open book test.  Let me restate that last part one more time in case your eyes weren’t listening:  Cheating on an open book test.  During my pop in with Madam Planet, I was not impressed with the hypocrisy she lead in point blank fashion.  Resting on her mantle above the fireplace was framed the golden rule, “Recycle, Reduce, Reuse,” she had coined and suggested to be the backbone to conservationists.  Yet, the guest book she had me sign did not have stated anywhere “Made from 100% recycled paper” nor was there any reserved container (other than the garbage) to put my empty aluminum can. 

When I sit back and think of this well-respected woman, I at times, picture her to go on a scavenger hunt around her house and find random material and fibers and reuse them by knitting a pair of socks to keep her feet warm or go on an arts and crafts craze.  Such was not the case.  Literally, walking proof of this was the Hanes Her Way stockings she proudly styled while giving me a tour of her place not equipped with energy saving features.

 In her garage that already was utilizing the heating option, stood, not a typical hybrid automobile, but a child-molester-like van that probably hadn’t passed emissions since 1987, and leaked more oil than the BP rigs along the gulf.  Gas hogs—both her and the vehicle—each doing their part to contribute to the California smog index.

Leaving lights on with nobody in the room, confessing that she indeed leaves the water run while brushing her pearly whites, and scoffing at the thought of “Going Green” are three commandments broken on a daily basis. Still requesting paper to the grocery store bag boy at every visit, she finds the pre-purchased canvas bags to be outright theft of shopper’s money.  Momma Big Blue Marble opted out of the option to “Adopt A Highway” and defined carpooling as transportation for moochers. There went HER reward for leading by example, huh?  Whatever happened to the idea of one day marrying John Denver, planting trees for your tomorrow, having kids and getting a polar bear as a pet?  I asked this to yahoo answers, but they weren’t available for comment. 

Go ahead and dump your coffee cup full of cigarette butts in the parking lot.  Gotta keep those chain gangs busy picking up after you, oh mother of the environment.  I guess I had forgotten that the world IS your ashtray.

This has only been a slap on the wrist to your character, unlike the slap in the face you gave your supportive fans when you wrote a letter to the editor with a statement describing how much of a sham Earth Day was.  Step down, you phony, you’re a hazard to your own health!