Shouldn’t littering have degrees, like murder? First degree littering would be like serial killing, a genuine affront to humanity. Case in point: when I find some skanky mattress or overturned recliner dumped on a street corner, I picture rubbing the former owner’s face in it the way my father taught our dog not to crap in the house. There’s no excuse for making your problems ours, and those who do are entitled leeches with urine for blood.
And no, the “FREE” sign you stuck on that used condom of an old couch doesn’t frame this picture any more forgivably. Your Carrington-Breckenridge microsuede fat throne and you can go to Hell. 
I can’t say why the site of abandoned furniture hits my who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are? nerve with the precision of a laser-guided missile, but when it strikes I picture the culprit creepin’ around, lookin’ for the right spot and the perfect moment to dump some lifeless television before he races off like he’d waved his dick at some kids.
If the offending home furnishing adorned with a “FREE!” sign is sitting in front of your home or at the end of your driveway that’s a different story. But old couches are most often abandoned in and around condo and apartment complexes. Discarded mattresses are leaned upside electrical boxes, building entrances, parking garage gates, and in a gutter or side yard for all to enjoy. And guess who loves ‘em most? RATS.
(Here too I imagine a male tenant, most likely some outta’ state jerk who doesn’t pay his child support, waiting ’til midnight before wrestling his personally varnished queen-sized Euro-top out of the building and into the alley, where it’ll stay for weeks.)
Ever see a dumper in broad daylight? Not me! I’m glad I haven’t, too, ’cause if I did there’d be a confrontation. ‘Course I really can’t go around mashin’ people’s faces into their inconsiderately disposed of, cat hair covered IKEA foam as I have both State and Federal rap sheets. Hello! Such an incident would guarantee conversations with suits and badges I neither want nor need, not to mention a reunion with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.
Ah, but where I would be tempted is catching some unmanly do-nothing dumping his tattered La-Z-Boy by hopping out of my car with a digi-SLR. 14.3 Megapixels of mega-shame, baby! I’d run over and yell, “Yo Landfill, say cheese!”
Then I’d zoom home and crank out some nice color prints, returning to the scene of the criminal laziness with many copies. Each would feature an abusive, unfairly judgmental, and contemptuous description of what I saw. It would say “HATE CRIME” or “RODENT BREEDER” in giant letters. My eyewitness account would even include seeing the perpetrator stopping to wipe himself all over with a large dead fish — just because: readers need a good WTF!? to keep ‘em hooked.
I’m not, however, prepared to dial 9-1-1. My faith in local law enforcement’s concern for aesthetic, quality of life issues is dubious to begin with. Besides, 3½ hours with the police actually is too much to ask. Far too many cops are anxious to end their shift with as few incident reports to complete as possible. Staying on the scene with you means not moving on to collect more. Thus my motto: “Don’t magistrate, humiliate!”
So is publicly dumping your old loveseat really a hate crime? Other than a self-hate crime, technically, obviously no. But it is illegal and certainly arguable that only self-haters buy Swivel Rocker Recliners “with Storage Arm” and fabric sectional sofa-yachts.
I mean, Lane and Broyhill are the real reason people dump wretched discourtesies like the Berkeley cocktail table in the dark of night. It would be mortifying to be seen ditching a “rustic” TV console – with marble accents – yeeesh!
Isn’t it always that hideous Macy’s clearance center garbage these assholes make us look at on the street, too? I call unfair! You’re walking down the sidewalk and a little lunchtime spaghetti comes up when you catch sight of a turd-shaped Bulldog Pad-Over Rocker. And what in goddamn Hell is a “Catnapper Magnum!?”
So sure, we get the motivation behind your vulgar dereliction of the Cost Plus ottoman you dragged out from Buffalo, but please. We’d rather you brazenly burn those design abortions in the street than leave them for us, okay, Tommy AppleStore? Give us something to watch, not look at. And start with your Riverside Cantata Computer Armoire in Burnished Cherry.
Tags: illegal dumping
