Gas Pains
Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
The Magic Curb
I have written on several occasions about the Ju-Ju of my magic curb and how simple it is to dispose of your junk by simply hauling it to the edge of the street.
Voilà! It's gone. No muss no fuss.
I see very little incentive in wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon with a trip to the city yard to dispose of some large, unwieldy and possibly dangerous object when you can simply drag whatever you have to the curb and have it magically disappear.
As a matter of fact with the city budget under assault by cuts in shared revenues I have a sneaking suspicion that more and more of us may be turning to the curb as a perfectly reasonable solution to making ends meet by allowing someone else to make our trash their treasure.
I'd bet that many of you harbor the same suspicions that I do.
Yes. People from Brookfield might be involved.
One of my neighbors recently put the magic powers to the test. A really, really big test too. By hauling an entire basketball backboard, post and base - complete with hoop to the curb.
I gave it a nudge.
I thought to myself - There is no way that anybody can haul this away. It's just too big and heavy. Probably wouldn't even fit it in the back of my pick-up truck.
As you might guess - somebody else is shooting buckets with it.
Probably in that community to the west.
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