Trash Talk

I've started commuting to work via car. Seems it's cheaper to go with free parking than risk a $25 ticket every day at the Takoma Metro Station and the illogic of their "Seven Hour Meters." (Topic for another posting: How Metro wants us to get out of our greenhouse-gas-emitting cars and onto their earth-friendly transit system, but then makes its ironically unappealing by having seven hour meters with $25 tickets for expired meters in their parking lots. Makes no sense, folks. Hence, my resentful and unconscionable move back into my car.)

As a result of my car-bound, 20-minute commute, I see a lot of things. Bad, stupid-ass driving is what I see most. And, yes, it bugs me. And, no, I'm not the world's best driver, but I try to be courteous and to factor in enough time so as not to have to rush. But I digress. The other thing I see whilst driving and that disturbs me more than the rubber cars slinging and flinging around me are the folks who LITTER.

Litter. You know what that is, right? It's that stuff that, if you were at home, you would throw away in a garbage can or put in your recycling bin. It's that McDonald's cup. It's a candy wrapper. It's the box your disposal camera came in. It's anything you can't eat or use in a practical manner. It's trash. Sometimes, it's a reusable resource. But you fling it out of your car window or casually drop it on the sidewalk or whatever. It's litter. And frankly, it's disgusting and lazy.

If you can't be bothered to hold onto your candy wrapper long enough to get to the next gas station and you just have to toss it out the window, you're a litterer. If you can't muster the energy, let alone the civic pride, to carry your trash that extra 20 steps to a public trash can, you're a litterer. If you think it's okay to just throw it on the ground because the city sweeps up every night or there are neighborhood business-area ambassadors who will pick up and sweep up trash, you're a litterer. And you're lazy.

Littering is about laziness. And it's about a lack of pride and respect for your surroundings. In the case of my surroundings, THIS IS THE NATION'S CAPITOL, for cripe's sake! Have a little pride. Get off your lazy ass, show a little pride in your city, town, neighborhood, backyard, wherever, and pick up your bleeding trash. Just because it's an urban setting doesn't mean the rules of the wilderness don't apply. In other words, if you hauled it in, haul it out!

This message brought to you by The Crying Indian, Woodsy Owl, and your local Civic Pride booster. (And P.S. I think it's time Keep America Beautiful revive the Crying Indian and for the Forest Service to bring back Woodsy Owl. Until then, though, here, for your collective recall, are The Crying Indian and Woodsy Owl.)

Articulate

Last week, Senator Joseph Biden (D-DE) launched his presidential campaign and got off to a bumbling start. Seems he referred to Senator Barack Obama (D-IL), a fellow contender for the Democratic nomination, as an “articulate and bright and clean and a nice looking guy.” This, of course, means Biden won’t be the Democratic nominee for president in 2008. I’m not a Biden fan, so I’m not trying to defend him here. Mr. Obama, to whom Mr. Biden later apologized, mostly shrugged it off—at least the articulate part. And so should the media—again, at least the articulate part. (Without question, saying a black man is “clean” is a very, very poor choice of words. For that, I say the media should be all over Biden like flies on doo-doo.)

Okay, I know, I know. Telling an African-American they’re articulate is considered a put down by many within their community. Sort of a backhanded compliment. And yet, isn’t it time to stop parsing compliments like this and instead graciously accept them for what they might be: a genuine note of praise? And even if they aren’t genuine, sometimes the best way to shut up a bigoted, racist, sexist, misogynist prat (or, as CreoleInDC would say, “stoopit” people) is to simply say, “Thank you.” It’s disarming and, for the person who’s been the bigoted fool, it’s the ultimate put down. You’re calling their bluff. You’re defying them to say otherwise that you’re really not articulate or smart or pretty or whatever.

I am told quite often that I’m articulate. Should I raise my feminist hackles and think of it as a backhanded compliment meant to subtly send a message that keeps me in my place—in this case, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen? Or, should I simply take it as a compliment regarding my ability to express myself well both in written and spoken word? When I’m complimented that way, is the conveyor of the compliment saying, “Gee, she doesn’t sound female at all?” implying that the litmus test for being articulate is the bastion of males only?

I hope you’ll pardon me for saying this, but given the degradation and misuse of language by many people, regardless of race, color, creed, or nationality, it’s incredibly refreshing to meet someone who is articulate and able to express themselves well, both in writing and verbally. That’s not to say there isn’t room for dialects and unique turns-of-phrase. There can be an articulateness and eloquence—if not outright poetry—to dialectical language and prose that should be celebrated. Zora Neale Hurston’s book wouldn’t be what it is without its rich, Shakespearian-like language (Shakespearian here meaning, easier to comprehend and better read out loud than read silently, which is really the only way to read Shakespeare. Or Hurston.) But dialects (or Ebonics or gangsta rap or whatever variation you want to call it) isn’t the problem.

What is bothersome are the people—especially young people—who abuse language in ways that make them look stupid and uneducated and, dare I say it, inarticulate. And don’t even get me started on the potty mouths out there. An occasional swear word is fine. A string of invective laced between “likes” and “you knows” is empty, meaningless, and unattractive. Using epithets that are degrading and demeaning to others—whether it’s the N-word or fag or fatty or whore or whatever—is unnecessary and distasteful, not to mention outright racist, homophobic, sexist, and Neanderthal. The use of such words only serves to make the user look facile and foolish. Frankly, I’d rather see someone smoke a cigarette than hear some of the verbiage that comes out of some peoples’ mouths these days.

Mr. Obama is an articulate, eloquent man who might one day be president. I hope we can see past the surface of adjectives and appreciate their depth and the fact that when some of us—perhaps even Mr. Biden (though I doubt it)—pay a compliment, we genuinely mean it as exactly what we’ve said.

Bottom line is, the ability to speak well is a sign of pride and a desire to constantly do better, regardless of one’s station in life. Being articulate shouldn’t be a put down and it ought not to be seen as a "sell out" to the white man. The next time someone pays you a seemingly backhanded compliment, call their bluff, be gracious and say, “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Believe me, you’ll have the last laugh! At the very least, if it is a genuine compliment, you’ll have been appreciative and that always looks good.

My ramblings aside, here are two pieces worth reading—one from Eugene Robinson of the Washington Post and one from Stuart Taylor Jr. of the National Journal.

An Inarticulate Kickoff

The Great Black-White Hope

Which one do you agree with?

Crowd Control a la D.C.

Had to make a trip to the doctor today. My fabulous internist's office is at 24th and M Streets NW, which is also right around the corner from Washington, D.C.'s, newest Trader Joe's at 24th and L. Having completed my business with the medical stuff, I decided to pop into TJ's because I had decent street parking and figured I might as well take advantage of it.

The new TJ's is spacious and well-stocked, in keeping with the company's image. But the thing that stood out in this particular store was how the check out lanes were set up.

Trader Joe's has done everything it can to ensure that Washingtonians are on their best behavior by corralling folks. When you're ready to pay for your treasures of Joe, you queue up in a roped off lane and wait for the next available cashier to call out, "Next customer, please!" Think Borders Books crowd control, but for food instead.

On the one hand, it's a great way to handle the hoary masses of Pirate Booty-crazed downtowners.

On the other hand, it's a sad commentary on the behavior of folks in this town and its surrounding feeder 'burbs. It's testament to the me-first, fuck-you, narcissitic behavior of many of the people who live and work here who think only of themselves and rarely think of others.

In many respects, it's poetic that we end up herded like a bunch of stupid bovine or sheep. We're often no better behaved and yet, we should know better. Making the effort to be courteous and polite takes very little time and goes a long way. So the next time you're heading for a line in a store somewhere, stop a moment, take a deep breath, and repeat the words, "It's okay. I'll get there when I get there."

This town is hard enough without all the bad behavior. Let's make an effort to make it a kinder, gentler place. And thank you Trader Joe's for reining in the hoary hipsters. I think.

Photo copyright: Rick Nolthenius via Google Images.

Day 6 (Part 2): And Charlie... Light a Match!

Don't know if you caught this article in today's Washington Post. I confess: it made me laugh. (Which probably makes me a horrible person, but oh well.)

Lit Matches Prompt Emergency Landing

On the one hand, I feel bad for this poor woman.

On the other hand, having been subjected to a farting, drifting, drooling, snoring passenger on a return flight from L.A. this summer, I would have given real money for some matches and an air horn.

Day 17: On My Worst Enemy

I wouldn't wish the job of taxi dispatcher on my worst enemy. But this guy writes so beautifully about it, it almost makes you want to run out and apply, just for an outlet to vent your disbelief at morons and idiots. Honestly, you can't make this stuff up.

Read on, MacDuff, read on.

Here's to Etiquette and the Return of Inside Voices

Okay, I'll confess right up front: I don't have children. I love kids, but I don't have any of my own--at this time. Nevertheless, I have to applaud the owners of businesses that serve food and beverage to the masses who are asking parents to rein their children in when they patronize certain establishments. See this article for more detail.

I'm sure raising children today is no piece of cake, but between the cell phone gabbers and the screaming children, etiquette and manners seem to be going to hell in a hand basket in this country.

Having said that, though, I know my siblings and I were raised to be aware of our settings and to behave accordingly in those settings. My parents didn't tolerate running all over the store, touching everything, and screaming at the top of our lungs or crawling under the dinner table at home or in restaurants. In fact, my father often and repeatedly told us when we would get out of line, "Keep it up and you're going to the car." It took being banished to the car once with Dad and we straightened up pretty quickly.

To this day, my siblings and I can't go into a store or gift shop without first putting our hands in our pockets (the result of Mom's continual admonition: "Don't touch anything" because she didn't want to have to buy whatever we might break.)

And we never got away with being allowed to disrupt church and run around in the foyer of the church either. (No small feat, given how noisy Mormon worship services can be.) My Dad would pick us up out of the pew, take us out, hold us, and stand in a corner with the misbehaving child facing said corner until said child calmed down. We quickly learned that that wasn't any fun and we'd rather sit quietly in the worship service with whatever quiet diversionary activity my Mom had schlepped along (i.e. a picture book or a piece of paper and a pencil), then stare at a wall.

In other words, my parents didn't reward bad manners and tantrums.

So, here's to the businesses that are asking all of us--adults and kids--to use our inside voices and to behave ourselves when we're out in public.