I Want The Leaves To Blow
May 23rd 2008 10:51
Is there any greater invention than the leaf blower? Honestly, it's my favourite of all the inventions. No other human-made device has, in my opinion, summed up our society with such spot-on precision than this brilliant device.
Really, the leaf blower has only one basic function: it remove leaves from one area and puts them in another.
In principle, I can understand the thought process behind its inception. Leaves can block drains and cause minor flooding, they can rot and create a pretty unpleasant smell, and if too many of them clog up the footpath, they can be a bit of a hazard. The actual basic desire to have the leaves removed is natural.
Sadly, it's also natural for we, as humans, to forget about the second stage of the process. "You want the leaves removed? Done! Interested at all in where they go? No? Not a problem. Out of sight, out of mind." See, the leaf blower doesn't blow the leaves into a special compartment where they are burned or mulched or used in some sort of environmentally-friendly counterfeiting operation. No, the leaf blower blows the leaves... somewhere else.
Far too frequently, I've witnessed people blowing the leaves away from the footpath in front of their house, relocating them to the footpath in front of their neighbour's house. Then, the neighbour comes out with their leaf blower and blows the leaves into the drain, where they clog the drain and create some minor flooding. My reaction is, of course, to be thankful that such a happenstance so appropriate to my writing would take place in front of me.
Part of me understands how something like global warming can take place. The idea that we could impact the weather must have seemed a little ridiculous back in the day. (In my teenage years, it was generally considered alarmist nonsense. By my mid-20s, it was widely-accepted fact. I am, of course, exaggerating ever-so-slightly.) Start one coal-burning factory, and there's no change to the seasons. Start twenty, still no change. It's very easy to see how it came about. Leaf-blowing, however, is right in front of you. The futility of your circular actions are there for you to see; its impact takes place before your very eyes, mere seconds after your inciting action! How do you not see?
Either way, it's a useful device to remember whenever anyone comments on something positive. For instance: "You see? You see how those young people saved that woman from getting hit by that train? There is good in the world! You see?" "Yes, but we still invented the leaf blower."
Really, the leaf blower has only one basic function: it remove leaves from one area and puts them in another.
In principle, I can understand the thought process behind its inception. Leaves can block drains and cause minor flooding, they can rot and create a pretty unpleasant smell, and if too many of them clog up the footpath, they can be a bit of a hazard. The actual basic desire to have the leaves removed is natural.
Sadly, it's also natural for we, as humans, to forget about the second stage of the process. "You want the leaves removed? Done! Interested at all in where they go? No? Not a problem. Out of sight, out of mind." See, the leaf blower doesn't blow the leaves into a special compartment where they are burned or mulched or used in some sort of environmentally-friendly counterfeiting operation. No, the leaf blower blows the leaves... somewhere else.
Far too frequently, I've witnessed people blowing the leaves away from the footpath in front of their house, relocating them to the footpath in front of their neighbour's house. Then, the neighbour comes out with their leaf blower and blows the leaves into the drain, where they clog the drain and create some minor flooding. My reaction is, of course, to be thankful that such a happenstance so appropriate to my writing would take place in front of me.
Part of me understands how something like global warming can take place. The idea that we could impact the weather must have seemed a little ridiculous back in the day. (In my teenage years, it was generally considered alarmist nonsense. By my mid-20s, it was widely-accepted fact. I am, of course, exaggerating ever-so-slightly.) Start one coal-burning factory, and there's no change to the seasons. Start twenty, still no change. It's very easy to see how it came about. Leaf-blowing, however, is right in front of you. The futility of your circular actions are there for you to see; its impact takes place before your very eyes, mere seconds after your inciting action! How do you not see?
Either way, it's a useful device to remember whenever anyone comments on something positive. For instance: "You see? You see how those young people saved that woman from getting hit by that train? There is good in the world! You see?" "Yes, but we still invented the leaf blower."
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Comment by P'tater
Once, on the footpath of Fitzroy St., St.Kilda, at just such an enchanted hour, I watched just such an artisan, with his leaf blower set to Warp 8.5, trying to blow a stubborn bottle into the gutter. This was despite the fact that the targeted part of the gutter was squarely in the middle of a well-occupied taxi rank, so that the whirling-brush truck, in order to pick up what would likely be glass shards (for, as one might easily observe, this is often the fate of bottles, leaf-blown gutterwards), would've had to crush many cabs, & then, presumably, sweep them also into its innards. The alternative (& more likely) outcome, I guessed, was that the truck would decide, sensibly, not to crush the cabs (whirling-brush trucks being far more intelligent than commonly thought), & would, instead, leave the glass shards to be of yet more use in the world by piercing the tyres of as many taxis as possible. Eventually, my weak, lefty concern for the taxi tyres overcame my urge to see how many hours the Scourge of Flung Bottles would continue to stand there, whirring (& blowing) furiously at the stubborn bottle (not to mention my curiosity over which would first be depleted -- his determination or his fuel supply). I stepped forward, picked up -- with astonishing ease -- the recalcitrant receptacle, took two more modest steps, & deposited the item in the adjacent rubbish bin.
Oh, how I wish I could recall the exact words of appreciation uttered by the jolly leaf-blower man. They were, I think, "Blow you." Or words to that effect.