It’s February 4th, assholes. Do you still actually think the city garbage men are going to pick up your Christmas tree?
Let’s see… there have been about ten or twelve garbage pick-ups since New Years, and for some darned reason they’ve ignored your discarded tree every time. Oh wait—I know: it’s because they don’t pick up Christmas trees! They never have! You have to take your own tree to one of the handful of places around town where the city stations a guy with a wood chipper, up through the first weekend of January or whatever. Even I know that, and I haven’t had a Christmas tree for at least five years.
Is this any way to to treat your cherished symbol of Jesus’s birthday, even if it does originate from paganism? The farm-grown Monterey Pine or Douglas Fir that you bought at Target, propped up in your living room, festooned with decorations and enjoyed the festive scent of for the better part of a month? Well, just look at it now: quite literally kicked to the curb. There it lies, denied and disowned, spurned by sanitation workers, peed on by neighborhood dogs, retaining only the capability to incinerate the entire neighborhood should it come in contact with a cigarette butt flicked from the window of a passing car.
Do the right thing, you jagoffs. All of you (the disgraced tannenbaum pictured above is not the only one still curbside around here). Pick up your trees, put them in your cars and take them wherever they need to be taken. If you don’t want them shedding in your car, tough shit—you didn’t let that stop you when you brought them home.
Merry Groundhog Day. Don’t save the trees.
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I hear ya. It’s *so* depressing seeing unwanted Christmas trees at the curb. This is why we do a living tree. It lives by the front entrance most of the year, and we bring it in when the holidaze approach. In January, we put it back out again. No wasted money, no muss, no fuss. Just a happy, living tree.
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