Those of you old enough to remember The Graduate remember the line about the future:
“I got one word to tell you kid: Plastic.”
Not so funny now when plastic clogs our oceans and sea creatures choke and die on it, is it? Not so funny when I try to turn the soil in my yard and find plastic sheeting in a place it has no business being.
Put plastic on your face. No, really, do it for a moment; you’re not a stupid kid with a dry cleaning bag; you can pull it off any time you want.
Sucks, doesn’t it?
Now the hope for the future we know lies in the ground for a good million years. A child’s plaything that might entertain him or her for a couple weeks gets thrown out like so much trash to last what we would call forever.
Part of my archeology classes would dwell on what the future humans would find (or ALIENS!) and what conclusions they would come to:
“They liked cheap injection molded objects to serve their needs momentarily. They had no idea that they would be judged by them.
Here is some plastic:
Polymer clay at it’s best. They will dig this up like we dig up ushabatis in Egypt. Little dolls to do your will, magical servitors. Mary, do your thing!
And what could be better than Plastic Jesus?
He’s got the wind at his back, he has an accusing or blessing finger pointed your way, and he is much calmer than the Glowing Jesus we posted before. He has magnificent eyebrows, and a background worthy of Olan Mills. He’s probably six inches tall.
Still, he’s too shiny.
I might have to put him in a scene with Godzilla or something, I don’t know; I am tempted.