More Napoleons of crime.

Puppy dog Izzy and I usually are out when it's not too bright, before any other dog-man walking combos in the morning, because we are early risers and maybe not too bright either. It's not so bad at this time of year, but in the winter, when the sun comes up around noon, it's a little depressing. 

Being out early, though, we're usually the first to see what the nocturnal drivers have left around. For a while we had a run on banana peels, when the local 24-hours gas station/convenience store was selling bananas at the register. But lately we're just back to the old favorites -- cigarette butts, fast-food wrappers, and beer cans. Although these days we're more likely to see abominations like White Claw or hard seltzer represented than Coors Light. 

I can't complain too much. As I've noted in the past, one of my first cars had a hole rotted out in the passenger seat floor, so when I wanted to empty the ashtray at a light I would just lift up the mat and dump it through the hole. I have a long, sordid history of litterbugism, for which I am trying to pay bit by bit, picking up trash. 

It's the beer/other booze containers that make me laugh. You know the geniuses are thinking that if they're pulled over, but there's no empty container, there is absolutely no way the officer will suspect they've been drinking at the wheel. 

"No one will EVER KNOW!"

The drinkers of things like White Claw or Twisted Tea also believe that they don't smell of alcohol regardless of how hard they've been pounding the juice. Okay, kids, you just keep on believing. Might as well start to practice standing on the side of the road, reciting the alphabet backward starting with V.

Obviously, the solution to this is for us all to drive Peel Tridents. 

Not only is there no window to throw garbage through, but for about half of the year the weather in New York wouldn't let you even get that thing on the streets unless you carry it there. What are you going to do then? Sink it in the snow? And in the summer, that bubble bakes you like a potato.

Besides, there's no room in it for a fully grown man and a six-pack of anything except wax bottle candy. If you drive it drunk and hit a pedestrian, it's 50/50 which of you will die. Plus, with all the gas we'd save, John Kerry could fuel his private jet for a hundred years. 

Modern problems require modern solutions!