Nobody expects Canada to be the jack-arse neighbor who burns his garbage and stinks it up for everyone, but here we are.  It’s not healthy.  I got a sinus infection when I walked down to get the mail.

Sparky and I are going to play it save.  Maybe watch some cartoons and cook up a Detroit Style pizza from Costco.

Yes, I get the irony of my burning can being in the middle of the photo.

No, I’m not going to make up some bullshit explanation that the burning can is a prop that was intentionally placed there for social commentary or some dramatic purpose.  That’s way too much effort.

No, you can’t say that I’m a hypocrite for having a burning can:

  1. That’s considered ‘what about-ism’.  By changing the word to something ending in ‘-ism’, you can’t call me out.
  2. Unlike Canada, I didn’t get the burning can for trash fires.  I got the can to safely dispose of asphalt shingle scraps left over from roofing the barn.  Now, I only use it to burn the occasional car tire that people dump next to the highway.  Apparently thrifty consumers would rather toss a bald tire, than pay a nominal disposal fee.  Sparky and I don’t mind.  There’s nothing like sitting around a tire fire, drinking swish and cooking hot dogs.