Saturday, August 15, 2009
Get your hands off my junk!
Not a phrase you want to say in these modern times, I’m sure. But as I was visiting my local landfill, or as we used to call it, dump, I couldn’t help but think of the way things used to be. On the hill above town, in clear view of the whole valley, the dump was a place where you unloaded your trash. There were no attendants to tell you where to dump, no crushers, indeed, no equipment of any kind. It was a reeking, fly ridden piece of real estate that most likely had a smoldering fire emitting...
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