To all you modern-day gleaners out there:There's not a whole lot I can do to stop you from rooting through the boxes I put out for the trash pickup, short of sitting on my porch with a shotgun full of rock salt, which I ain't gonna do. I would request that you fucking clean up after yourself, though. I've already packed those boxes once, okay? I don't want to do it again and again. Don't leave the shit spread all over the yard; you're like a fucking dog going after a bone.
And here's another tip: those electronic items sitting out there? Yeah...those are broken, you dumb fuck. I would think that if you knew how to repair a modem, you wouldn't have to resort to digging through other people's trash. And I noticed you ignored the books. God forbid you might accidentally be exposed to some sort of educational materials and end up with some unwanted self-reflection. You might even become embarrassed! Can't have that.
I sure hope I remember to disconnect the car battery from the next shiny metallic object I put next to the curb. You're lucky I'm not using the boxes as bait, asshole, or you'd be on a hook in my garage while I headed to the store to get the other ingredients for my barbecue.
Keep your fucking paws to yourself.
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