Twice in my life I've gone to the dumps. The first time was with a friend at my dad's instigation, for my friend owned an appropriate car, which we're generally not allowed to call a car when it's that shape, though functionally it's equivalent; which container appropriate for motive force included capacity for two overgrown boys and electronic equipment that was in a state known as waiting-for-repair (which state had been intersected with that of, costly-junk-to-move). Hence two boys throwing old tv sets to see if they could break them.
Someone thought about a revolver, but to someone else came the word, ricochet.
A dozen years later I went to another dump. In the interim I had had to listen to all the nonsense about corruption; for I had then considered it nothing but a finger pointing contest, and have not yet had anyone successfully argue with me that it is not. And in the interim we heard about all that may so easily be done to resolve the waste problem. And all the time we heard about the poorest of the poor, who couldn't get themself to go and stand in a queue for a handout, and who therefore chose rather to look for hidden treasures in the dump.
I don't recall exactly why I was in the dumps again, but I do still recall that through appliance of science we've got that ring of confidence.
I do know that I am looking at people who are trying to encourage me to involve myself, and therefore over-extend myself, so that they may then say that I am one of them.
Corrupters are everywhere we look, which includes mirrors. Pollution is a choice.
Air-pollution isn't a choice, unless you shut the fuck up.