Tag Archives: Pabst Blue Ribbon

The tell-tale tub

One of the first subjects I wrote about on this blog was anthropology.

I asked you to consider what social scientists would learn about you if they happened upon your magazine rack.

Now and again we have a chance to learn about each other, as households of humans, through our recycling bins.

We know quite a bit about our neighbors—their dietary habits and how they spend their weekends—on recycling day. They also get a glimpse into who we are, that is, unless we’ve mastered the art of burying clues, as I do when necessity dictates.

Doesn’t every  family stash its Little Debbie cartons or otherwise-telling proof of vice beneath the Kashi Go Lean?

What do we know about people based on what’s on their curb?

A bin brimming with dead PBR soldiers might reveal a group house of twenty-somethings, while a heavier load of Shiraz bottles and brie rinds is a sure sign of a girls’ weekend.

Walking down my street, you’d envision from this curbside container an adoring aunt who spoils her visiting nephews:

You’d also know that neighbors aren’t rushing to party with the empty nesters who left this blue bin behind.

Quick, take a look, what’s in your trash tub? Do tell: What’s buried beneath those Evian empties?

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