Ode to a blue collar Urinator

For about five months I have been reasonably convinced that I have been chosen to be part of some sort of social experiment, and the experiment has been constructed thusly: get an ordinary joe (your humble author) to move to a quaint little town, tax the hell out of him and then provide him with city services that are not just poor but actually value detracted. Somewhere, a municipal government has commissioned this experiment to try to establish just what level of abysmal service can be offered before an average citizen tries to stage a town hall coup. It just so happens that I am in the test group.

So, I guess I would have been surprised, recycling man, if you had not urinated on my street last Tuesday morning in plain view. I understand that any city service which is not an insult to my intelligence and senses might not be consistent with the experiment that is being conducted…I am almost comforted that I was disappointed, as per usual.

Perhaps the problem lies with me… I am too harsh on this town and those who work for it…you are not just a guy with a small bladder and an utter disrespect for the neighborhood that you serve. Your act was actually symbolic: you are demonstrating the cycle of consumption and return of waste to the earth in a piece of inventive street theatre. You are the ultimate environmentalist acting out against the wasteful practice of employing indoor plumbing for human waste disposal. I am one of the honored citizens lucky enough to see your act of urinary rebellion.

“subject has shown high level of aggravation, has not yet acted out against city property and continues to fabricate wild stories to rationalize deplorable city services”