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Crap Bags

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Ponder the lunacy of the crap bag. If one looks at modern society through an unfiltered lens it isn’t to far fetched a conclusion to believe that the human race is just plain dumb. We willingly place drug addicts like Marion Barry and Rob Ford in positions of power, or worse, elect outright criminals and the intellectually impaired, like ex Virginia governor Bob McDonnell, or this guy, who would like  to be president. We claim we value lawful behavior and run stop signs, speed, steal from the companies or clients we work for and, in general, do what is convenient or consciences will allow. We eat food that will give us heartburn. We smoke, we drink to excess, we make death defying Youtube videos of jumping over and under and into ridiculous circumstances that are only funny because it isn’t our own yarbels that are on the line. But for a sublime example of what fools we mortals be, consider the common crap bag.

Most people don’t really need a pet. Origionally tools for protection or used in hunting, it wasn’t long before the weak minded among us began to adopt the canids as the only friends that truly understood us and would stick with us through thick and thin. (Yea, see how much that Basenji respects you when you die in your a rent-paid-automatically apartment and he can’t use a can opener.) They stick by us because we’ve hyper bred them to be docile, some are even amicable to cats, and we feed them. Now we may be dumb but we did figure out that an end result of feeding was that stuff found its way down the alimentary canal and was ejected in a less that olfactory, satisfactory condition. Soon it was everywhere, smeared by shoes on the sidewalk and carried by the soles of our feet into the finest dining establishments, ground into woolen carpets, left to molder in backyards so one’s neighbors  could enjoy the heady fragrance. So were dog walks initiated. The parks and hiking trails became the parvenu of  the tail waggers and it wasn’t long  before some perfect example invented the crap bag. Odious as it it to grasp that warm bodily ejecta, even with the thin polyethylene barrier to protect  one, even more objectionable is the practice of bagging it up and leaving it trailside for others to view, like some brightly packaged gift. We all know these pet parents, in days not long past just plain DOB’S and SOB’s, intend to retrieve the crap bag on the return trip, but what is the actual percentage of those who do? After all who in their right mind wants to tote around a bag of crap?

On the one hand it seems far more logical to just let the biscuits fall where they may and allow nature to take its course. Some of us watch where we put our feet, although the term minefield can have more than one meaning. Nature does a fair job of fixing some of the problems we humans leave behind, and it  is understood that the problem is largely one of quantity, nature just can’t keep up with the numbers. But to hermetically seal the detritus in a plastic bag where it will likely remain potent for eons, well, that logic eludes me.

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