This morning, I walked from my place to my work, it takes about 5 blocks to reach my desk from my bed, though. Not bad, eh? However, on East 13th Street between Avenue A and B, I was bored out of my mind -- I counted 22 turds on the south side of the sidewalk on ONE block. 22! Don't they pick up their shit any longer?
This reminded me of last winter, where I stood at the corner in East Village. I saw the dog squatting the shit out of his ass, while the dog's owner stood next. But the shit was not hard, it looked like someone's lentil soup. Then my eyes darted back to the owner who were hoping not to clean it up and run off, he saw me. I darted much harder to let him know that he is responsible for that soft shit. He groaned then looked around, then looked at me. I still set my eyes on him.
"Clean it up, you oaf. You bought this dog, you took the responsibility! Pick up the shit, you little oaf!"
That is what my eyes said to him. He got the message. He picked it up.
Too bad I'm not everywhere today.