I am a burner. In these times of ever-encroaching global climate catastrophe, we need to return to the age of autumn leaf burning.
As a boy, I would watch transfixed as mammoth piles of gathered leaves flamed out of control in our neighborhood. My neighbors, grown men, whimpered involuntarily as they frantically tried to beat back the windblown pyres with wooden rakes — fires they had deliberately set with gasoline.
In my experience, nothing draws a community together like one neighbor burning down the house of another. Saturdays in our little town became parties replete with fire engines and apologies.
Nowadays the old-time autumnal dance of leaf incineration is forbidden.
We are expected to buy unique bags to put our leaves in, to be carried away by our municipal workers to some unverified leaf gulag.
I am beginning to feel that my government is turning me into a kind of environmental janitor.
Is there a better tactic to force temperatures into a nosedive than a massive ring of leaf soot around the Earth to block out the sun?
Got a match?