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Take your butts elsewhere…

I have never picked up a cigarette butt in all my time patrolling my path. Not once.

It’s really a numbers game: there’s just too many of them too strewn out. I don’t care where you look along the road, I defy you to not see a carelessly tossed butt.

Some jerk dropped these butts off on Fairview Road at Phillips Place. Idiot.

Some jerk dumped this load of butts  on Fairview Road at Phillips Place. Nice going, idiot.

There are hundreds, if not thousands, of cigarette butts laying along my route in various stages of decomposition. Every city I’ve ever visited, and it’s the same way. Butts everywhere.

Phillip Morris USA, General Tobacco, American Tobacco Company, et al, have bigger fish to fry than to worry about what they contribute to the roadsides. To their credit they do push responsible disposal of the remnants of their products.

The rest of us should care, too. It’s too bad so many others don’t. One guy who does is my good friend Bob, and while I won’t divulge it, he has a crackerjack idea to shame butt tossers into submission. It would be very in-your-face but maybe a strong-armed approach is what is needed.

Bring it on, Bob. When you’re ready, will be, too.

About Dave Bradley (264 Articles)
I was a writer by trade so one would think letters would come easily for me. It is so now, but wasn't always that way. Indeed, the first letter was written the Monday after Ellen started her freshman year in college. For years I've wondered - with no good answers - why I swiveled my office chair toward my computer screen to fire up a word processing document for that first letter. I just don't know. I just did. Perhaps it was the angst of separation or wanting to say things that had gone unsaid at that moment when we parted ways in front of her college dormitory. What was a one-off became habitual. When her brother Reid enrolled in the same college, his name was added to the salutation line. They were kids then and are adults now. No matter. The letter writing habit remains so today. I live in Brevard, North Carolina. I'm well away from where they live and don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. That's why letters, at least to me, fill the void of distance. The pages give me something to say and the space to say it. There is no assurance they read the letters; indeed, I have never asked if they do so. With the pace of their busy lives who could blame them for letting a letter sit unopened? Over time, it has dawned on me that the letters are both communicative - and cathartic. By nature, letters are about the writer; the writer can only write about their situation. Perhaps that is as it should be. It's all about the here and now from one person's perspective.

1 Comment on Take your butts elsewhere…

  1. i have always wanted to make a bumper sticker for the butt litterers…”KEEP YOUR BUTTS OFF THE ROAD”.

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