I Just Tossed My Recycling Box Down The Rubbish Chute

By:  Rachel Marsden

I awoke this morning to find a plastic blue box placed outside my apartment door, along with a note inside explaining how I must use it to sort and dispose of my recyclable rubbish.  I promptly took it down the hall to the “disposal room” and fired it down the rubbish chute.  Environmentalism should be like tipping in restaurants – something you do out of the goodness of your heart because you have the inclination and motivation.  The more it gets shoved down my throat, the more I get the sinking feeling that it’s really just a socialist scam wrapped in guilt.  And the government knows a good scam when they see it – which is why they’re cloaking unpalatable new taxes in environmentalism, as well, in the form of “carbon tax”. 

I don’t recycle things I can throw in a rubbish bin.  I know, I know – admitting this aloud anywhere in the Western world is like telling the Pope to his face that you don’t believe in God.  But I’ll be ready to discuss the environment when India stops using cattle as a primary means of transportation.  At that point, I’ll know we will all at least be at the same starting point and would all have any burden applied equally.  Until then, the best I can hope for is to trade a couple of cows against my blue recycling box.

Perhaps I would feel a bit more inclined to recycle if I knew for certain that the Coke can I tossed in the waste bin would end up in a landfill somewhere.  But I am almost certain that it won’t, because in this enviro-fascist world, someone will intercept it – either a paid government employee or a new immigrant working on contract for such a purpose until they can get their foreign credentials approved to practice medicine.  That is, if a boy scout or a homeless person doesn’t fish it out first for income purposes.  Sometimes I feel that I’m doing my part to keep a certain segment of the economy afloat.

Modern environmentalism is nothing more than a delusion promoted by the most narcissistic generation to ever set foot on Earth.  Only people who spend all day Twittering and updating their 2,000 FaceBook “friends” to keep them abreast of their various monotonous daily activities could buy into the idea of being important enough to affect the fate of the planet.

Not that there aren’t tangible ways to improve the environment.  Donating a portion from the purchase of my bottle of Dawn dishwashing liquid so the company can use it to clean off wildlife affected by oil spills is something I can get behind.  Paying an added “sucker tax” on my next flight in the form of “carbon offsets” – dropping some coins in the dodgy collection plate of environmentalism, simply to assuage the guilt of having to get my backside from point A to B -- is not.

 A town near Paris, France, somehow determined that its dogs produce 160 tonnes of excrement each year, so they’re going to make little baggies available to owners for its handling.  Now that’s measurable environmental action.  If only groceries in Paris could be afforded the same consideration as dog waste.