Rim Job

Here lies testament to the bold experiment we once called “Democracy” here in America. Now it sleeps cold and dirty, having no self-worth or dignity. If one should look upon our discarded “Democracy” perhaps they could reflect that this dirty piece of trash coffee cup once held a Cumberland Farm patron's sweet caffeined drink (or is it Dunkin' Donuts-does it matter), and then reflect some more about another unrelated thing. An associate employee of the American workforce served up this drink, hot and fresh. Then another sales associate rung us out. Did we need the receipt? No. But we will take it because you never know if they surreptitiously rang up something else with it and charged us the difference on our debit card. This cup embodied can-do spirit and know-how and other hyphenated-hyperboles. Now look at it! don'tturnaway@adirtycup.com. A dirty unkempt piece of filth on the side of the road. The world cares not a whit about this cup now, if it ever did, and I believe it may have if worldly affairs hadn't got in the way. Think of the in-numerous companies and people it took to make this cup of coffee. With all their pensions and Grandchildren, and one-hour martinizers benefiting from this transactional piece of history. Trapped in a moment of time in a photo, held for infinity there by the roadside, muddy and bowed to the left. You did live “Democracy”, you did live.