By Mara Zepeda
Philadelphia Weekly, December 31, 1969
After dozens of posts on Whole Foods' recent decision to do away with plastic bags by spring, the discussion on Philly Blog devolved into an ugly exchange between a pro-plastic (PP) punter and a proponent of the string bag (SB).
SB: "You're just a jerk who likes to whine like a little girly man."
PP: "You're self-centered, but we already knew that. I'm sure you're as dry as a bone."
SB: "You are a sorry excuse for a human being . you must be one very lonely and sorry person, and I pity you."
This, remember, is a conversation about grocery bags.
Pay a visit to the Progressive Bag Alliance-a nonprofit whipped into existence by plastic bag manufacturers- and you'll see an industry having a panic attack. The Alliance says plastic bags aren't evil if they're "recycled, reused and disposed of properly." Unspoken is the dire reality that someone's bottom line will suffer if, God forbid, Americans manage to use fewer than 100 billion plastic bags annually. (Environmentalists say the choice between paper and plastic is splitting hairs. Both use energy and natural resources in their production and destruction. The best solution is to use a bag that won't inevitably end up in a landfill or recycle bin).
On a recent visit to Whole Foods, shoppers were politely terse when asked about reusable bags. Customers' brows furrowed in confusion as if to say, "what's the big deal?" Maureen and Craig bought three reusable bags at Whole Foods as soon as they went on sale, and are pleased by the company's decision. "It says good things about their core values." Rebecca's been using her own bags ever since she was in Paris years ago and noticed the trend.
"I know I can always do better," says Mimi, who has an array of plastic bags for bulk items and produce.
No one has a valid reason not to bring a bag to the grocery store. Unlike buying a hybrid or installing energy-efficient light bulbs, using a reusable bag is cheap and easy. Just remember to bring a bag, same as you remember to put your pants on. It's less about sacrifice and more about mindfulness.
And yet suggesting this simple behavioral change provokes outrage. How will we ever dispose of dog feces? What shall we do with the multitude of wet bathing suits? Won't I look silly with my hippie-dippie bag?
On WHYY's Radio Times, guest host Dave Davies opined, "people who belong to co-ops or shop at certain environmentally friendly stores might do this, but most folks would feel kind of weird walking into a supermarket with a canvas bag."
Turns out the bags themselves have become the battleground of a propaganda war. Designer Anya Hindmarch's popular "I am not a Plastic Bag" tote provoked the "I am not a Smug Twat" carryall from Marissa V., which in turn inspired the "I am a Plastic Bag and 100 percent Recyclable" plastic bag produced by (surprise) the Progressive Bag Alliance.
None of which leaves you feeling optimistic about the prospect of America going green anytime soon. We're a country that wants change. And something to pick dog crap up with. And we don't want to look like weirdos at the grocery store. We love us our plastic bags.
SB: "You're just a jerk who likes to whine like a little girly man."
PP: "You're self-centered, but we already knew that. I'm sure you're as dry as a bone."
SB: "You are a sorry excuse for a human being . you must be one very lonely and sorry person, and I pity you."
This, remember, is a conversation about grocery bags.
Pay a visit to the Progressive Bag Alliance-a nonprofit whipped into existence by plastic bag manufacturers- and you'll see an industry having a panic attack. The Alliance says plastic bags aren't evil if they're "recycled, reused and disposed of properly." Unspoken is the dire reality that someone's bottom line will suffer if, God forbid, Americans manage to use fewer than 100 billion plastic bags annually. (Environmentalists say the choice between paper and plastic is splitting hairs. Both use energy and natural resources in their production and destruction. The best solution is to use a bag that won't inevitably end up in a landfill or recycle bin).
On a recent visit to Whole Foods, shoppers were politely terse when asked about reusable bags. Customers' brows furrowed in confusion as if to say, "what's the big deal?" Maureen and Craig bought three reusable bags at Whole Foods as soon as they went on sale, and are pleased by the company's decision. "It says good things about their core values." Rebecca's been using her own bags ever since she was in Paris years ago and noticed the trend.
"I know I can always do better," says Mimi, who has an array of plastic bags for bulk items and produce.
No one has a valid reason not to bring a bag to the grocery store. Unlike buying a hybrid or installing energy-efficient light bulbs, using a reusable bag is cheap and easy. Just remember to bring a bag, same as you remember to put your pants on. It's less about sacrifice and more about mindfulness.
And yet suggesting this simple behavioral change provokes outrage. How will we ever dispose of dog feces? What shall we do with the multitude of wet bathing suits? Won't I look silly with my hippie-dippie bag?
On WHYY's Radio Times, guest host Dave Davies opined, "people who belong to co-ops or shop at certain environmentally friendly stores might do this, but most folks would feel kind of weird walking into a supermarket with a canvas bag."
Turns out the bags themselves have become the battleground of a propaganda war. Designer Anya Hindmarch's popular "I am not a Plastic Bag" tote provoked the "I am not a Smug Twat" carryall from Marissa V., which in turn inspired the "I am a Plastic Bag and 100 percent Recyclable" plastic bag produced by (surprise) the Progressive Bag Alliance.
None of which leaves you feeling optimistic about the prospect of America going green anytime soon. We're a country that wants change. And something to pick dog crap up with. And we don't want to look like weirdos at the grocery store. We love us our plastic bags.