A church to which I will never belongFor the record, Rachel (obviously not named after Carson) uses only lead-based paint specially imported from Third World countries. Her grandkids enjoy the piquant taste as they teethe on the windowsills.
The church of recycling.
And what a holier-than-thou group of congregants partake of the communion of recycling! Where I work, recycling is not mandatory but those who wish to can drive their recyclables over to a special dumpster located some distance away from our building. Two of my coworkers dutifully save their cardboard, cans and paper and take turns trundling the stuff over to the recycling center. The trip to the recycling center is heralded with as much fanfare as grace before meals. First the announcement, then the gathering of the holy cardboard, then the loading into the car and the drive over. Recently, it was suggested that we all recycle and take turns going to the center. I refused. I don't recycle, I said, I'm morally opposed to it.
Every spring she bombards her garden with vintage DDT, also imported from exotic locales.
And did you know that dabs of napalm in small decorative containers make for wonderful tea lights?