Dead Birds Talking Trash, Garbage Barges and Billionaires – North Delta Reporter
Jthis isn’t to suggest i was a young genius or anything, but when i was about seven years old i figured out the perfect trick to avoiding the worst of all childhood jobs – cleaning my room.
Rather than spending precious time and energy picking up things and putting them back where they belong, I realized that I could just pick up whatever was scattered around and throw it – then put it away, then wedge it – under my bed. Lay the pink ruffled bed skirt in place to hide the evidence and – presto – a clean room.
It’s a solution, I’m sure, that no other child in history has ever thought of. And no doubt my mother was completely fooled every time I emerged after three and a half minutes, announcing that the task was finished.
But in my mind, I had pulled off the perfect scam. If your mother doesn’t see a mess, does it even exist?
You know what – it is, if she can feel it.
I always blame the cat for throwing me under the bus. One day there was a horrible stench coming from my room and the jitter was up.
My mom ushered me in and stood there while I lay on my stomach, reached under my bed, and pulled out a seemingly endless stream of toys, clothes, and books. Finally, from the back of the corner, came a blue flannel nightie. On it – in a mess of blood and feathers – was, I feel like saying… a Robin? It was some kind of songbird, and it was decaying.
When it comes to getting rid of gross stuff, we as a society use the logic of a seven year old.
What can’t be – or isn’t – recycled is piled up in isolated landfills or loaded onto barges and shipped overseas, where it becomes a developing country’s problem. If we cannot see it, it must not exist.
But it exists, there are more every day and it will eventually come back to haunt us.
As regular readers are no doubt aware, sometimes painfully silly ideas take root in my brain and I’m like, ‘You know who needs to hear about this? Everybody.’
So buckle up, because this one is a doozy.
Let’s throw our trash in the sun.
Think about it. Things that would take centuries to decompose here on Earth would be instantly vaporized.
And this vapor? Evaporated.
I don’t want to hit you with so much science all at once, but even biological, chemical, and nuclear waste wouldn’t measure up to old Sol.
Something this pandemic has produced, in addition to a lot more trash, is a lot more multi-billionaires (insert your own joke).
There are some of them, you may have noticed, who are a bit obsessed with space travel.
While they’re busy comparing the sizes of their rockets, maybe they could put their big brains and giant bank accounts to work building a craft capable of carrying something into space besides other rich self-centered .
While Elon Musk and his ilk talk about colonizing Mars, we continue to bury ourselves in toxic waste.
May I suggest that if you have more money than you could spend in a dozen lifetimes, maybe your legacy shouldn’t just leave the planet (I mean let’s not keep you) but leaving her a better place than she has been.
I Googled it, thinking that, as ridiculous as an idea is, it must have been started by someone, somewhere, at some point.
And, of course, he has. The main argument against this, from what I can see, is that figuring out precisely how to do it and then executing that plan would be extremely difficult and prohibitively expensive.
When has a huge prize ever stood in the way of a government project? And, with a whole host of countries participating, perhaps the sky is no longer the limit.
If a big, big multinational contract is what it takes to put the garbage ticket in the sun, I can think of worse ways to spend trillions of dollars.
Moreover, the potential for job creation is astronomical, since all this waste would have to be collected, compacted, loaded, secured and sent on the right trajectory to explode in the sun.
All this, repeated many times.
It’s so crazy, it could work, right?
In the worst case, we miscalculate, miss our target, and our trash floats around in the vast vacuum of space. If that happens, who among us will ever see it again?
At this point, I say, we just drop the giant cosmic dust wheel and call it a day.
Brenda Anderson is the editor of Peace Arch News.