To Rise Above or: Why I'm okay with being a snob

Conventional wisdom and popular science tell us that the difference between a man and an animal is something like abstract thought, perception, self awareness, or the ability to communicate. I whole heartedly disagree. The difference is far more simple. A man behaves like a man should, an animal doesn't know how to behave so he is no better than his worst impulse.

Picture this. A somewhat timid city street, say in Boston's South End. Cars drive by intermittently, stopping for pedestrians in the crosswalk. A bus rattles by. A few restaurants are ramping up for the night as a diner closes for the day. And down the street walks a young man, 15 years old give or take a growth spurt, let's call him an urban youth. He holds in his hand a sub/grinder/hero/hoagie/a damned sandwich for crying out loud. As he passes a quiet, tree-lined street he flicks, from the sandwich, pickle slices. Like chunks of a poorly constructed space transportation vehicle which shall remain nameless, these pickle slices wizz and splat on the pavement. So gripped by the prospect of banishing all the evil pickles from his delicate supper, the youth loses grip of the sandwich bag and a handful of napkins. And guess what? He just lets them fly. Off to sit on the street corner like a huge pile of pigeon crap. In twenty feet this boy has created more litter than a five-dollar Las Vegas hooker on free condom day at the planned parenthood clinic. This, I submit, is an animal.

I'll save you the delicate metaphors and get right to it. I live on this block. He doesn't. I don't litter. He CLEARLY does. And I'll bet my big toe that he litters everywhere. I'll bet he litters on his own block. His home is probably awash with dirty clothes, used papers, opened boxes, and straight up garbage. Having not possessed the presence of mind to ask the deli counter to abstain from applying pickles to his sandwich, this kid thought it completely appropriate to calmly discard his mess on the street I walk down every morning on my way to work. This is not the behavior of a man!

Once prehistoric apes began to walk upright they started putting their waste in appropriate places. First and foremost they stopped hurling their own dung like the monkeys and they found a place where garbage belonged. We in the civilized world do the same thing, but we don't just stop at the crap. We have other specifically designed recepticals for waste disposal. We call these places garbage bins, trash cans, and waste baskets. A pig does not care if its covered in mud eating out of a moldy dumpster, a man does. A man shows himself respect. And duly, he is shown respect by others. I cannot express in words how tragic I find people who demand respect but clearly have no concept of how to earn it.

My mother calls it "breeding" and "refinement." I call it the difference between a man and a dog. And I mean dog in the way that Danny Trejo says it in "From Dusk Til Dawn." Real dogs I love. I can't live without them. That's why they're called man's best friend. A dog, or as they are so commonly referred to in street slang - a DAWG, is filth. And YES, I realize that this is an extremely snobbish thing to say. But I don't care. I think I've earned the right to judge.

I regret that I did not say anything to the pickle flinger. Perhaps it was my self preservation instincts that avoid pointless confrontation. I called it pointless because nothing I say in a heated street exchange is going to change what this boy has clearly learned is acceptable behavior. Or perhaps I didn't see the point of correcting him with words. I think it's a mixture of the two. Society has always seen that the best way to enact change is to lead by example. So, that's what I'll do. Continue not being an animal and clean up after myself. And maybe, if I'm feeling gutsy, throw even more dirty looks at the animals as they pass. Sure I'm a snob. But I'm a snob with a big television and a love of fine cheese.

to be continued...