Toyland USA

Waning Crescent Moon

Yesterday was not the first day I have found an adult sex toy on the side of the road. In fact, if the truth be told, over the ten years I have been picking up trash as an Adopt-a-Highway volunteer, I have probably found more than twenty such rude objects poking up out of the grass. And on my 2016 walk across America, you ask? Probably twenty more.

Yes, commuters, like it or not, driving amongst you on your potholed American highways are some rather odd and lonesome motorists. Indeed, some of your fellow citizens are busy pleasuring (punishing?) themselves or their chums with a wide variety of multi-colored plastic organs, then casting them aside, out the window, into the grass. Petroleum bi-products gone wild.

Yesterday's roadside surprise, however, was unique, at least in my experience. Not unique in a happy, shiny, unicorn sense. Unique as in a my-Lord-I-have-seen-it-all-now sort of way.

This particular tossed-aside adult sex toy was purple and kind of see-through. Big deal,  I have seen several of those before. It was enormous, shockingly long and thick, but a lot of them fit that description. It had batteries inside and some sort of knob or switch at the base...a vibrating mechanism of sorts...nope, not unique at all.

What was unusual about this purple, see-through, enormously long, thick dildo with a built-in, battery-operated, vibrating mechanism (other than the fact that somebody threw it out of their car) was that it was still on. Yes, it was on, right there at 10 a.m. in the morning. It was lying there, poking up out of the spring green grass on the edge of Highway 101, humming and vibrating away like a biggo purple tomcat in rut. That one takes the cake, so to speak, sports fans.

I was not about to touch the damn thing, in case you were wondering. I did what every long-suffering Caltrans volunteer would do with a dirty diaper or with some nasty soiled undies or with seven sacks of disgusting fast food residue. I stopped, shook my head in disbelief, wondered if America is ever going to survive the age of Trump, reached down with my trusty metal trash picker tongs, grabbed the dildo by its vibrating fake purple balls, and crammed it in my already half-full bag with the rest of the obscene garbage.

It was weird to have something moving around in there. I felt like a Texas snake-wrangler with a sack full of ornery rattlers. I figured that sooner or later, though, the batteries would run down. No government issued personal protection gloves known to mankind were going to give me the false courage to reach in there and turn it off. I prayed it would be dead before the dudes in the Caltrans truck come by to pick up the bags today. They see enough of this stuff. They don't need to see any more.

Peace, Love, and Toyland,
Jim