Tuesday, May 13, 2008
7:48pm
Someday last week
My Living Room
Wellington
This is not what I intended to write for my first post, but I've just had a great idea that I want to share. I'm watching Fair Go. Some story about stink pay rates for kids with paper routes, sounds rough, poor kids. There's a kid on screen delivering masses and masses of junk mail to homes in Dargaville.
So I'm looking at the ridiculous volume of paper that this kid is lugging around, watching... brain idling... Meanwhile, in another part of my mind there's this guilt I've being carrying around for a few days. I've been bothered since I read an article telling me that I destroy a tree a day by using disposable paper towels to dry my hands in the bathroom at work. Then, all of a sudden - click-bang-clunk-eureka. Lightbulb goes on.
Here it is...
Let's get rid of all junk mail so I can dry my hands with a nicely offset conscience!
Seriously folks, we're all greenies nowadays aren't we? We all accept the inconvenient truth and acknowledge our responsibilities to at the very least try a bit harder to not made make 'the environment' any worse. Why don't we get rid of the freakin junk mail? Let's just ask them nicely to stop. After all, we do not ask for it, we do not want it, and we barely glance at. Despite its almost complete irrelevance and annoyance value masses of this stuff is deposited in letterboxes around the country every week. It is then transferred mostly straight into recycling bins around the country every week. It's a godamn outrage in these days of enviromania.
There are many inconveniences and cost-increases involved in meeting the demands and constraints of 'sustainability'. If we are to make sacrifices, I vote we start by sacrificing uninvited unwelcome glossy advertising mail from The Warehouse. Almost too easy, I know.
At a bare minimum there ought to be a campaign to freely deposit "No Circulars" stickers in every letterbox, to make it very nice and easy for the can't-be-arsed among us. That'd save about half a forest I reckon. If there was a successful movement to ban uninvited mass-market advertising to the home we'd probably save a few forests. Sounds more sustainable than buying from The Warehouse I reckon, and we'd all feel a touch less guilt if such needless waste was eliminated.
In other news, I'm the new blogger on BIR. I had yesterday drafted my intended first post, about my complete avoidance of rugby after the world Cup quarter-final until yesterday, when news of Evans and possibly Carter joining MacAlister, Mauger, Jack, Robinson, Hayman and Howlett in choosing money over the black jersey filtered through my post-cup avoidance mechanisms. My blog was going to conclude that this season's exodus is truly a turning point for the ABs, who will no longer be (arguably) comprised of New Zealand's best players. Instead we will play Tests with Possibles teams, to use the old lexicon. Otherwise first choice, inked-in All Black starters will be playing overseas. I can scarcely conceive it; luckily my sense of hurt is still dulled from the last Test match.
Pretty bad state of affairs I reckon. It got worse. Today I heard that Jerry Collins wants out of his contract early so he too can the join the exodus. Mr "I just wanna play footy" just doesn't wanna play footy for the world's best footy team any more.
I'm not angry, I'm too defeated for anger. Mark it down, tell your kids, this was the day the idea of home-based All Blacks team, a truly national representative team, died.
Someday last week
My Living Room
Wellington
This is not what I intended to write for my first post, but I've just had a great idea that I want to share. I'm watching Fair Go. Some story about stink pay rates for kids with paper routes, sounds rough, poor kids. There's a kid on screen delivering masses and masses of junk mail to homes in Dargaville.
So I'm looking at the ridiculous volume of paper that this kid is lugging around, watching... brain idling... Meanwhile, in another part of my mind there's this guilt I've being carrying around for a few days. I've been bothered since I read an article telling me that I destroy a tree a day by using disposable paper towels to dry my hands in the bathroom at work. Then, all of a sudden - click-bang-clunk-eureka. Lightbulb goes on.
Here it is...
Let's get rid of all junk mail so I can dry my hands with a nicely offset conscience!
Seriously folks, we're all greenies nowadays aren't we? We all accept the inconvenient truth and acknowledge our responsibilities to at the very least try a bit harder to not made make 'the environment' any worse. Why don't we get rid of the freakin junk mail? Let's just ask them nicely to stop. After all, we do not ask for it, we do not want it, and we barely glance at. Despite its almost complete irrelevance and annoyance value masses of this stuff is deposited in letterboxes around the country every week. It is then transferred mostly straight into recycling bins around the country every week. It's a godamn outrage in these days of enviromania.
There are many inconveniences and cost-increases involved in meeting the demands and constraints of 'sustainability'. If we are to make sacrifices, I vote we start by sacrificing uninvited unwelcome glossy advertising mail from The Warehouse. Almost too easy, I know.
At a bare minimum there ought to be a campaign to freely deposit "No Circulars" stickers in every letterbox, to make it very nice and easy for the can't-be-arsed among us. That'd save about half a forest I reckon. If there was a successful movement to ban uninvited mass-market advertising to the home we'd probably save a few forests. Sounds more sustainable than buying from The Warehouse I reckon, and we'd all feel a touch less guilt if such needless waste was eliminated.
In other news, I'm the new blogger on BIR. I had yesterday drafted my intended first post, about my complete avoidance of rugby after the world Cup quarter-final until yesterday, when news of Evans and possibly Carter joining MacAlister, Mauger, Jack, Robinson, Hayman and Howlett in choosing money over the black jersey filtered through my post-cup avoidance mechanisms. My blog was going to conclude that this season's exodus is truly a turning point for the ABs, who will no longer be (arguably) comprised of New Zealand's best players. Instead we will play Tests with Possibles teams, to use the old lexicon. Otherwise first choice, inked-in All Black starters will be playing overseas. I can scarcely conceive it; luckily my sense of hurt is still dulled from the last Test match.
Pretty bad state of affairs I reckon. It got worse. Today I heard that Jerry Collins wants out of his contract early so he too can the join the exodus. Mr "I just wanna play footy" just doesn't wanna play footy for the world's best footy team any more.
I'm not angry, I'm too defeated for anger. Mark it down, tell your kids, this was the day the idea of home-based All Blacks team, a truly national representative team, died.
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