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The Official Newspaper of Stinky Creek, Texas |
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The Official Newspaper of Stinky Creek, Texas |
Spittoon Features
Front Page The Daily Spittoon is updated every Monday morning before the entire staff heads over to the Stinky Creek Saloon for lunch. If you have any complaints, don't interrupt us while we're eating. Just send us an email. Send all
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I'm Just a Guy Spring has sprung, bluebirds are twittering, daffodils are blooming, and my grass is growing like weeds. My poor misguided neighbors are once again in the process of beating their lawns into shape with mower and rake, but I refuse. Cutting grass is a useless endeavor that never did anyone good – especially me. There are many things in this world that need to be mowed over – politicians, info-mercials and diet sodas to name a few – but grass isn’t one of them. My yard has never done me harm. I can think of no quarrel I have had with it to make me want to abuse it while working up a sweat. Therefore, I choose to sit here in the shade, drink my iced tea with plenty of sugar and lemon, and pray that one day my good neighbors will follow my example and leave their defenseless yards alone. Did the Pilgrims come over on the Mayflower hauling lawnmowers, weed eaters and leaf blowers? Of course not. Does the constitution guarantee us the right to freedom of speech, religion and healthy Bermuda grass? I don’t think so. Did the Indians put sprinklers around their teepees in order to make their lawns lush and green? I shudder at the thought. Our founding fathers did not bring forth to us a new nation all trimmed, manicured and brimming with microwavable Mexican food in pre-packaged portions. They brought us to a land that was hostile, overgrown, and filled with the promise of adventure. The only adventure left for us today is finding what aisle Wal-Mart moved all those microwavable Mexican food items to (which isn’t quite proper English, but what the hey! I’m not an English teacher – I’m just a guy). What’s so wrong about letting the grass grow until it covers the lawn chairs, charcoal grills and automobiles? Isn’t keeping the yard looking spiffy all a matter of keeping up with the Jones’, the Smiths’ and the Kabinowskys? (Ted and Sue Kabinowsky live across town. I don’t even know them, but they know me because they’ve heard about my yard). And if doing yard work is just a matter of keeping up with the neighbors, aren’t we doing it for all the wrong reasons? Tall grass is a great place for rodents, snakes and other vile creatures to make their homes. When our yards are brimming with such life, our children learn to explore, be adventurous, call 911 and suck venom out of fresh bite wounds while they wait for an ambulance. Our children learn to trap those poor creatures, put them in jars, and take them to school for show and tell. What do children with manicured lawns learn? You know exactly what they learn. And is that the kind of attitude we want in our children? Heaven forbid. If the taming of our nation’s grass has led our children away from the joys of scientific exploration and adventure and led them into the arms of video games and satellite TV, then I say let the grass grow and the devil with what our neighbors think. And speaking of watering the lawn – why do we do it? Water out of the faucet costs money. Water from the sky comes free of charge. And if it doesn’t rain for awhile, turning the grass brown and killing it beyond all recognition, then so be it. Who am I to go against the great Circle of Life? If we must live in a nation of trimmed lawns and sculptured hedges, then we should banish the gas-guzzling, noise-making lawnmower in favor of a few quiet sheep or a couple of goats. Let these grass-eating animals munch on the backyard until they get fat and happy -- then let’s eat them. A leg of lamb or goat can be a mighty tasty meal. You can’t eat a John Deere no matter how long you cook it. As old Ebenezer Scrooge once said, “If I could work my will, every idiot that goes about with a lawn mower, edger and a bag of fertilizer should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.” Those may not be Scrooge’s exact words, but I’m betting it’s pretty darn close. |
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The Daily Spittoon is an independently owned rural newspaper. |
