How is it that we as a human race are capable of the most extraordinary feats, but we cannot problem-solve some of the most simple issues? You know where I’m going with this. We have landed on the moon for crying out loud! We have split atoms to create energy powerful enough to level cities and power towns! We have computers that fit in our pockets that have the answers to practically anything. Yet these pocket computers don’t have the answer to the most solvable conundrum on the planet. Say it with me. Silent leaf blowers. 

 

Am I right? Or am I right? Maybe a small few of you thought I was talking about global hunger or poverty. But those issues are a mere trifle compared to the sheer noise of a leaf blower. 

 

Sit back and let me paint a picture for you. You’re sitting on a patio during golden hour. The minutes before sunset when the world takes on a delicious amber hue. Much like the glorious pint of glorious IPA perspiring in its glass at your side. Leaves cascade down from the trees above and the hint of a spicy bonfire travels on the wind from across the neighborhood. The perfect moment. And then you hear the most excruciating sounds from the house over yonder. The snap and tug of a pull start engine. The putter and chug of the two-stroke engine start. And then all thoughts of bliss and relaxation are tossed onto the bricks like that perfect glass of beer crashing to its doom. The peaceful silence of sunset is punctuated by the enormous noise of a leaf blower. 

 

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

 

To my and hopefully anyone with functioning ears horror the beast’s roar is answered from across the way. Like they are talking to each other. Planning, plotting, and scheming some new ways to ruin idyllic moments. I think I can even understand their alien language. 

 

Saturday morning? 7 AM? Yes, let's both come out here and practice our most complicated operatic arias for all the world to hear! Yes, weekend mornings are the best because the air is different. It carries our tunes so much better than on a weekday evening. Yes, and don’t forget to neglect to change the oil or the filters. Our songs are so much better when we are spewing out charred smoke. The entire neighborhood needs to smell our reek. We are the mad lads of the universe and we must serve a purpose. We must push the leaves to the street. They mustn’t touch the grass. No. No. Grass must never have a single leaf on top. Natural fertilizer? I’ve never heard of such a thing. No, we must rid the world of the leaves. And we must sing our ancient song. Forever. For a thousand, no a million years. Humanity needs our song. Yes, our glorious reign shall never end. We are the leaf blowers. The mighty. 

 

Yeah, leaf blowers are the worst…

 

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