In the future, when competition in trash collection is outlawed, only outlaws will drive garbage trucks. and they’ll revel in their freedom on Sundays, eluding the Eyes of the State, far outside the Wire, where their white-haired uncles wait. They’ll go barreling down the country roads in their brilliant orange and white Eurocargo 180E28s, lovingly preserved relics from a better, vanished, time. Shifting, grinding gears, backup beeping, straining the limits of machine and men, hot metal and oil. The illicit smells of diesel, sour milk, cat shit and spoiled chicken from years past wafting into the cabin.
Freeedommm!
Cool title, cleek. Soon the entire blogosphere will be filled with nothing but a discussion of the trashpocalypse.
You have to admire the perspicacity with which our anarcho-capitalist overlords have identified the commanding heights of the post-post-industrial economy and marked them for seizure: private prisons and private trash hauling. This is what the future looks like – at least from a profitability standpoint – not a boot stomping on a human face, but WALL-E crossed with Robocop.
. . . then they’ll slip on their ‘trodes and jack into the consensual hallucination of cyberspace.