Bag Factories

Posted: November 27, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Okay, imagine this. I’m outside on a warm fall evening. It’s dark outside. So dark because there are no stars from the pollutants in the air. I’ve just eaten eggs for dinner (for breakfast I had a Lean Cuisine) and now I’m spending my moment in life outside, with a dog on a leash, circling around him getting ready for him to shit. Without fail, he does shit. I reach into my pocket and pull out a plastic bag. I look at the bag and know that if this was a Disney film it would be screaming for me not to do what I did. What I did was sick. I picked up dog shit with a bag then threw it away like it meant nothing to me. I am a cruel human being.

I would hate to be a bag. That’s got to be an awful life. I guess that’s why God made bags non-living items. He didn’t give them eyes, or ears, or butts, or hearts. That’s what you need to be considered living by my standards. Fuck you trees. You’re always wasting your time GROUNDING MY ROOTS!!! into the ground to help you remain stable. You eyeless, earless, buttless non-beings. Trees do have hearts though and I’ll give them that much. They only ever fall on bad guys which is like the ultimate sacrifice a tree can give. They’re like marines, only taller.

(A true American Hero, Colonel Sweet Chestnut whose real life mission was the basis behind the film “Saving Private Pine”)

After I tossed away that bag full of shit (it wasn’t actually full of shit, there was plenty more room for more shit and possibly more items like batteries or carrots) I wondered where that bag had come from. Well, I know it was Target, but I mean before that. It must have come from a factory. That’s where all items come, except babies. I learned that this morning. I have never seen one of these bag factories, but until now, I have never really opened my eyes in search of one.

Chances are, I’ve met someone who knows someone who has a brother who knows someone who had sex with someone who works at a bag factory. That same person also saw an alligator in a New York sewer, got high on LSD and microwaved a baby, and was the physician who got the gerbil out of Richard Gere’s butt. I’m not going to sit here and make fun of people who work in the less than lucrative position known as “bag maker.” I’m not that high on my horse to be able to judge what other people do to feed their children/addictions. I would like to instead send out an apology.

(Mr. Ed, a horse who used all of his Hollywood fortune on drugs to get high. That’s where the term “high horse” comes from according to my thought process)

To those of you who are reading this that work in bag factories or know someone who does, please accept my apology for treating your hard work so poorly. You slaved away in that hot oval-shaped room for hours trying to perfect a plastic bag for my use. All I did with that bag was put a gallon of milk in it for a few minutes, then toss the bag onto the ground, and when it was finally selected by my hand it was used to pick up dog shit with. Your hard work ended up with a piece of dog poop at its center and ultimately placed in a dumpster with a couch poking out of it. It’s not fair that your hard work was treated this way. It would be no different from if Van Gogh finished “Starry Night” and I proceeded to urinate on it. Making plastic bags is your art and I’ve stripped you of that.

I don’t know what the exact process of plastic bag making is. I can only assume that it precisely takes precise precision. You need a steady hand and a strong heart to take on this job. It’s a job that I could never do. Not because I feel I’m above small menial tasks, but because I lack the courage that one must have in order to properly design these bags. The bags need to be strong, smooth, and even. It needs to be able to support heavy items. They need to be airtight to teach children a lesson in oxygen and where you cannot get it from.

Plastic bags have gotten a lot of notoriety from such films as “American Beauty” and several starring Robert DeNiro where he suffocates a traitor with one. But remember, plastic bags are not living creatures. The brave men (women are entirely too clumsy to build a bag properly) who are the Gods of these bags need the credit that is long overdue.

(A stock photo of a clumsy waitress spilling Justin Bieber’s brother’s lunch)

The next time you waste a plastic bag on something stupid like carrying your lunch or if you’re poor, carrying your books to school, take time to salute the factory where the bag came from. You can always find out exactly where if you put the bag over your head and look long enough at the inside. Trust me on this.

(Ricky Fitz is not mysterious or sexy. He’s a creep)

Comments
  1. How are women too clumsy to make a bag properly? Did you purposefully say this to anger goth girls? Well, I am not a goth girl, and I am appalled!

    P.S. I am thinking about framing a plastic bag. Plastic shopping bags are becoming pretty rare where I live. I will frame it and keep is as an artifact for my children, and their children and so on and so forth.

    • mooselicker says:

      It’s that common stereotype of “All women are clumsy”. I even have a bumpersticker that says it. The women love it and always honk and wave at me with fists. Then they drive off the road, in a clumsy manner.

      P.S. You should definitely frame the bag. It might be worth something one day. The hippies seem to be running this joint. (pun intended?)

  2. Lisa says:

    I only have one question after reading this lengthy expose on the life and times of plastic bags. What is your dog’s name? I realize it’s slightly off topic but I’m seriously interested.

    • mooselicker says:

      McGwire as in Mark McGwire, the cheating baseball player. We got the dog in 1999 the year after he broke the home run record. He’s also the same color as Mark McGwire’s beard. It seemed perfect.

  3. Lisa says:

    Oh, and one more thing, what kind of Lean Cuisine was it?

  4. BuddhaKat says:

    lolmao…
    remember… bags don’t kill people, people kill people…
    huh?!?what?!?! who said that!?!?
    🙂

  5. Cafe23 says:

    arguably the most intriguing part of this post is that it has been tagged with “superman’s vagina” …

  6. I wonder if these bag factories are in a constant state of panic about their clients going out of business.

    Branded bags are probably ordered months in advance and in huge numbers. Who wants to be left with a warehouse full of Walmart bags when they finally bite the dust? You can’t re-brand them or sell them to a pawnbrokers.

  7. Pete Howorth says:

    What a stupid waitress that is, I hope she got fired.

  8. sami116 says:

    Plastic bag making is a dying art. I’ve always dreamed of making one but the alchemist who was supposed to teach me the art just had a stroke reading about your dog’s poo.

    • mooselicker says:

      This almost sounds like some epic story where you, the apprentice, vow vengeance on me, the evil poo-writing warlock, after the man who taught you everything was killed by my curse of death by reading. Almost.

  9. Deep analysis of plastic bags. Why has no one done that before?
    Unfortunately you are trying to exterminate us. What a pity :).

  10. Lily says:

    This makes me think of Katy Perry’s awesome lyrics in her song Firework: “do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?” Nope, can’t say I have. But, it does make me realize that bags probably have the worst life.

  11. E. He says:

    For some reason, the topic of plastic bags has been in the air lately (like the Katy Perry song Lily mentioned) and stuck in eyeless, buttless trees all over China. Ya know, they (I don’t know exactly who) make biodegradable bags nowadays, BUT HOW? I have no idea. Corn? Also, I know behind all your poo-witted thoughts, you’re hiding a kind soul, because who thinks about where their plastic bags come from and then thank their creators? Certainly not the environmentally unfriendly and socially oblivious folk.

    By the way, I LOVE YOU for linking me into your post with Richard Gere and his helpless gerbil (I’m not sure I understand the reference).

    • mooselicker says:

      Thanks for discovering what a beautiful soul I have.

      No problem for linking you in. It’s starting to get hard with some of these blog names to shoehorn them in there and yours somehow seemed to fit a bit. The Richard Gere reference is from the 1980s. It was the first “chain letter” even though Internet didn’t really exist and I doubt someone who actually write it down in snail mail to let everyone know the gross rumors about Pretty Woman Man. I’m sure you can find something about it on the Internet. I’d caution you not to search though.

  12. E. He says:

    Another thing, I met Ricky Fitz last year, and he actually IS sexy and mysterious, and hasn’t aged a bit since American Beauty! But to be fair, I’m into the creepy type, especially ones that enjoy dancing plastic bags.

    • mooselicker says:

      I lost all faith in him when he was the bad guy in the Nicolas Cage Ghost Rider film. That was too much of a stretch and I haven’t been able to look at him the same ever since.

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