The Log of Controversy

For two months, I've been battling the trash-men in an epic war of stupidity, arrogance, pride and Americana! Hell, yeah!

A little back story... Our huge oak tree in the front yard (biggest in the city--like everything in America!--and apparently a historical landmark) decided to shed one of its honkingly large branches. Weighing in at about 140 pounds, six foot long and fourteen inches around, it was an unwieldy eyesore.

The first day of the month was coming up. Our trash collectors have publicly announced that on first day of the month, every resident can put out two large items. No matter how big or who it is, they'll take it and pollute the world elsewhere.

I put The Limb out curbside. My new nemesis's ("nemesi?") bypassed it. 

Jerks! Oh, it's so ON!

The next week, regular trash pick-up day, I thought I'd play fair (ha-ha, very funny guys, good time had by all, now pick up the damn trash), and set The Log into the trash bin. Sure, it stuck out like a broken finger, but, hey, that's what trash guys are for. Deal with it.

These jokers come along, jump out of the truck, pick up The Log and heave it into my yard.

Not only was it now ON, it couldn't be turned off! (In early retirement, I have a lotta spare time).

I went on-line, did my duty as a True American and tried to raise some healthy ire. I got nowhere. Further research led me to the trash guys' website ("Sure as shootin', everyone's rootin' for garbage!"). A glaring and ridiculously blaring statement proclaimed "limbs and foliage must be tied together in bunches no longer than three feet in length." No reason whatsoever given. Just the trash guys flexing their dirty muscle.

With no electric saw in the garage, I turned to ol' faithful, a rusty saw I'd inherited from the Civil War or something. As my mom would say, " it couldn't cut hot butter."

It was time to go tricky, covert ops. I took The Log to the street. I lifted it, whacked it down to break it apart. Nothing. I climbed a ladder perched onto my house, hefted The Log up. Dropped it on the driveway. Stubbornly still in one piece.

Dragging The Log like Linus with his blanket, head down and defeated, I propped the controversial limb up against the street lamp pole, hoping the trash villains of my nightmares would have second thoughts the following day.

Again, they ignored it. They tossed it into the street.But could it be? An early Christmas miracle? The center of The Log had weakened. Further chipped away by ravenous squirrels. With a mighty Hulk-like roar, one born of two months of frustration, I picked the nightmarish limb up. Smashed it down. HULK SMASH! TWO PIECES!

All that morning, I secretly hovered by the window, waiting to see if the devious trash monsters would pick up the two chunks I cleverly camouflaged inside the trash bin.

SUCCESS! High fives all around! Boo-yah, that's how you do it!