The Impetus

It was thirty eight minutes and forty four seconds. It was an encouragement, an entertainment, a frustration release. It was mentoring, challenging, suggestive and dumbfounding. It was all of that and yet it was nothing at all. It mattered more than most things seem to these days and it mattered not at all. Why do you suppose we are willing to put thirty eight minutes and forty four seconds into tilting at windmills?

It even started before the phone call. The picture sent to my phone was enlightening and a bit perplexing. I got it immediately but wondered about the instigation that had driven it to that point. I was about to find out. Remembering back to the last time I watched the Sound Of Music, I recalled the words in the song which said “Nothing comes from nothing”. And nothing ever should. There is a cause and an effect. There is an impetus and a result. A thought, a word, an action, a philosophy, a deed; it starts somewhere. Eventually it ends in death. Maybe not a human life being ended but at least the ending or termination of someone or something which was before and is no more.

My friend had been irritated for some time over the intrusion of advertisers and junk mail proliferaters. It was bad enough that as a consequence of their incessant efforts to get him to spend his money on things and places he had no interest in, he had to store up their resources until trash pickup day. It was even bad enough that he had things laying around that others who saw them would think he had an interest in when he didn’t. It was only mildly irritating that they misspelled his name or he was just addressed as “Occupant”. But on a more deplorable note and much more unconscionable, they were addressing them continually to his long ago deceased father.

We are all entitled to our pet peeves and favorite bugaboos. We can complain about one restaurant while extolling another. The same goes for motels, automobiles, radio or television stations and a myriad of other sanctimonious positions we adeptly maintain. Even the color of your favorite tractor is subject to criticism or admonition. And maybe it is because this has become such a dearth in my own life and a bane to the existence of anyone with a mailbox. But I have to agree there is an assumption that you are not entitled to privacy or personal respect unless you like what someone you don’t know is pushing your way.

Look at all of the restrictive government controls which have been driven into our law books in recent years. There’s bicycle helmets, automobile seat belts, designated smoking areas, movie ratings, air quality regulations, nutritional labeling, size limits on drinks, internet regulations and much, much more. It feels like we have really gotten out of hand somewhere along the way. There are those among us who are coming to the realization that they just don’t want to take it anymore.

So my friend send me a picture of his mailbox with a government agency approved note declaring he has no desire or tolerance for uninvited solicitation. It seems simple enough to me. But will this note alone be enough to dissuade the mountain of tree killing color glossy pamphlets, fliers and bags full of sales someone is certain “ you don’t want to miss”? Just because one arm of the bureaucratic monstrosity has ordained, does it mean it is firmly entrenched in the processes of the deliverers?

In the course of our conversation we vacillated from irritated to entertained and everything in between. The impact of this unsanctioned practice was devastating when assimilated as a whole. His cleaning lady had to move them around the house to keep them available in case a sale was needed but not all in one stack as a temptation when his matches were close at hand. Then she had to throw them in the waste bin when the dates were expires just like milk passing out of its freshness. However my friend is careful to not produce a large enough amount of personal waste so as to require the contractual obligation with the local trash collection company.

So maybe the conspiracy is to require him to have the same expenditures as his neighbors. If not enough people use trash collection companies they might go out of business. So local governments pass laws eliminating other more traditional means of disposing of such refuse under the guise of safety or air pollution. Then who would the plastic companies sell all of those ninety gallon dumpsters to. Although they might make suitable composting pots for those who understand the proper place for expired leftovers. Or what about all the diesel fuel required for those huge trucks which by the way are exempted from air quality regulations the rest of us must adhere to. Somebody has to buy the diesel or the price might go down.

Other consideration proposed to stop the unwanted deliveries included clay more mines, trip wires and incinerators placed strategically next to the mailbox. And I want to go back to the tree killings for a moment. Those trees never hurt any publishers. It is not like it is revenge or retribution. The oxygen they would have produced greatly outweighs the carbon footprint caused by burning the unused and unwanted paper afterwards. The contaminated water runoff from the pulp mills could have been good clean drinking water in those communities.

Think of all the store employees who would not need to be expending vast amounts of time and energy trying to not use those coupons each week so they can make the company some extra money. Then there’s the poor mail carriers who are in need of early retirement due to excessive weight loads. It must be a huge negative impact on people who just want to buy what they know they need instead of having someone else show them what they don’t have or want they they should want.

Oh rats; my can of nuts is empty. I guess I’m done with this for tonight. Besides it has taken me a lot longer than thirty eight minutes and forty four seconds to write this all down. Now where is that stack of grocery ads? I need to see who has the best deal on mixed nuts so I can replace this can I wasn’t supposed to be devouring. Hey, I said it was his problem, not mine. I can understand him getting a little bent out of shape over his perceived issues in life. That doesn’t mean I have to live under his self defined rules of conduct. Ahh, there we go; three for eleven with the store card. Gotta run!