I hate trail litter

I almost said I hate trail litterers, but I don't.  By the grace of God, I love my fellow man.

GU packs and the like on the trail irritate me, but I'm willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.  I understand that even a conscientious runner, who pockets his empties, might inadvertently leave one behind if it works its way out of his pocket as he runs.  It can happen.

Beer cans and cups on the trail make me angry.  When you pick up your 24 pack of Busch at the Chevron, why not pick up a trash bag, too?  Is it really that hard to put your beer cans in a trash bag and haul them out at the end of your little redneck soiree?

But the attitude behind this hypothetical conversation really boils my blood:

Turd face: Hey, I got me this couple a bags a trash, and my curb-side trash can is full.  Trash pick up ain't for 3 more days.  I dunno what I'm goin' ta do.
Butt wipe: Don't worry, throw it in the back a mah truck an' we'll haul it off.
Turd face: Where we goin' ta haul it to?
Butt wipe: Thar's some trails right over there behind our neighborhood.  We kin jes drive up the trail a ways, then toss all this trash out tha truck.
Turd face: Thanks, pal, yer a genius!

I wish I had a way to track these bozos down.  My preferred punishment would be a hefty fine, preferably payable as a donation to a trail conservation group, then several Saturdays of community service cleaning up the trails, to be served on days of major NASCAR races.  I will permit them to TiVo the race, but I'll be sure and tell them who won before they get home.

Random picture of trash.  Not my trails, but could be.