Arlo Guthrie has been here before. He was a balladeer of the 1960s and is perhaps best known for Alice's Restaurant. The tune is epically long, though not even close to the longest, see Progress Depends on Definition (May 2025).
I have referenced Alice's for its thoughts on groupthink, Thanksgiving, and more. See Why Can't We Be Friends (August 2019); and Kids' Chance, an Organization, a Movement (November 2016). A twenty-minute song will yield many usable points.
Nonetheless, The Massacree (Alice's) is about garbage. The Bumped Knee Massacree (November 2015). You see, the troubles Arlo and his friends encountered that fateful Thanksgiving all arose when they found the dump closed and elected to throw their garbage in a ditch.
Their logic was perhaps impeccable. They happened upon the pile of garbage in a ditch:
"And we decided that one big pile is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we decided to throw our's down."
The song proceeds to tell the story of their arrest, interactions with the judge, and Arlo's conviction as a "litterbug." One irony is that the local constable, "Officer Obie" caught Arlo because he "found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half-ton of garbage."
When questioned about the envelope, Arlo admits only, "I put that envelope under that garbage." Wit, sarcasm, admission? I was reminded of Alice, Arlo, and the Massacree again recently when litter stories appeared in my news feed. I shall never understand the science of algorithms generally, nor why suddenly I am getting trash stories (no pun intended).
KTSM El Paso made the national feed with the arrest of A 61-year-old woman ... charged with illegal dumping." She allegedly disposed of 100 cubic feet of trash. That is about the same as the interior room of a small sedan (though the car rental companies would tell you it is "full size," but I digress.
The arresting deputies found "two large piles of trash." From this, they "collected evidence" and filed charges. The accused faces "up to one year in jail, a fine of $4,000, or both" for this "serious crime." It never occurred to me that littering was a police focus.
A Google search suggests that it is, in West Virginia ("bags of trash"), in New York ("24 tons of concrete"), Mississippi, and even in Florida ("3,000 pounds of trash"). The police captain in Jackson, Mississippi, promised, "We will track you down, we will find you, and we will hold you accountable for your actions here in the city of Jackson."
Ah, "Officer Obie's" kin no doubt, sifting for that incriminating envelope? Fingerprinting the empty soda cans?
That is somewhat intriguing. CBS News reports that "roughly four in 10" killings in Jackson, Mississippi, go unsolved. The story notes that "Jackson suffers from one of the highest murder rates in the country." That said, they are deeply committed to finding and holding litterbugs accountable.
The Federal Bureau of Investigation notes that perhaps only about "17.2 percent of property crimes were cleared by arrest." An amazing 83% of property crime goes unsolved? And yet, there is time to search for litterbugs.
There are degrees of criminality. That is not to excuse or minimize anyone's suffering. Certainly, I would be perturbed if the litterbugs visited my property to make a deposit, even if it were not a ton or two. And yet, one might be more upset if their property were stolen, or a loved one were killed.
There is, perhaps, in the broad spectrum of criminality, some room for a sense of proportion? Perhaps more of the property crimes and murders might be solved with the resources currently devoted to tracking litterbugs, or to news conferences about tracking litterbugs?
The critics in the gallery are screaming and pulling their hair by this point. Where's the workers' compensation in this post? Well, Virginia, there is room for proportionality in all things. The point here is prioritization, and this post is for those who struggle with it. No, I am not advocating littering or ignoring those who do.
That said, you may spend all day searching for your favorite paper clip. You can rationalize your affinity, rip apart your office, and call each of your friends who may have seen it. You can fret, frustrate, and chase rabbits down holes. That paper clip can be pursued to the end of the earth. But, really, why not just throw a staple in that stack and move on?
Too often, particularly with the younger professionals, I see examples of undue focus on the trivial. They run themselves to ground looking for, complaining about, and prognosticating on that clip. This distraction eats minutes, hours, and days. They find themselves overstressed and without the necessary time for critical tasks, reflection, growth, and learning.
With experience comes the ability and perhaps the willingness to Let It Go (Frozen, Disney, 2013 - "turn away and slam the door"). Young professionals need to accept that each day will only afford 24 hours, 1,440 minutes, 86,400 seconds. How many of them will you spend chasing the litterbug (paperclip, etc.), Office Obie?
Each minute you do, that is a minute you don't accomplish something real. Real could be a big project at work, a meal with someone you love, or silent time lying in the grass staring at clouds.
You decide. I did a long time ago, and "the cold never bothered me anyway!"
