Minimizing Trash

Are you familiar with the Wayback Funk? It’s when you’re driving home from the playa with a stinking bag of trash in your car, and you’re reeking all the way back to civilization. The funk begins to rise as soon as you start to drive and it gets worse the further you go, even when the funk is in the trunk. After all, there’s really nothing but a piece of cardboard between your trunk and the rest of your car, and it can get mighty hot back there. Some people cannot abide the Wayback Funk. Last night they may have been wild primal beings, fearless and carefree and jumping over fires, but this morning they are deeply offended by the Funk. The odor of their own rotting history consumes them, enrages them, makes them mad. Where is my garbage disposal, my trash compactor, my sweet pine cleaner? Desperate, not thinking clearly, they jettison their bags in all the wrong places: in portajohns, at neighbor’s camps, near overflowing dumpsters and rumors of dumpsters, even along the side of the road; anything to be free of the Funk.