The best plastic bag story ever!
by
Otter
·
· Score: 4, Funny
(I'm pretty certain the site I plagiarized this from plagiarized it from the Wall Street Journal. I read it there, in essentially this form.)
Back in 1990, pet-store owner Stuart Thomson ordered new plastic bags for his store in Glasgow, Scotland. Within weeks, a stack of flimsy white sacks stamped with a red parrot and his Pet Shop's address showed up on his doorstep.
Mr. Thomson didn't give the matter any more thought until a letter arrived years later from a German trekker reporting odd tales from the sun-scorched bazaars of Central Asia. That was only the beginning. One by one, youthful backpackers, European diplomats and rugged mountain climbers started turning up at his shop like disciples, guided by the address on a plastic bag.
None had any interest in cat litter, poodles or aquariums. They had come to Glasgow in search of an answer to a mystery they had encountered on their travels thousands of miles away: Why, from the blue-tiled mosques of Uzbekistan to the hairpin turns of the mountainous Karakoram Highway, were so many people carrying bags adorned with Mr. Thomson's red parrot?
Border guards in Pakistan use them to hold their lunch. Kyrgyz shoppers stuff them with pickled fish, speckled rice and malodorous meat. Camels once traversed the sandy paths of Central Asia's legendary trade route, the Silk Road. But today's traders think nothing of carrying their wares in a Scottish parrot sack.
Without knowing it, Mr. Thomson had turned his cramped pet shop into one of the best-known brand names in Central Asia. In this age of global capitalism, the parrot sack is a bizarre mutation, a peculiar byproduct of the big bang that has led the planet's most diverse peoples and cultures to be united by nothing more substantial than the Nike swoosh, the Golden Arches or Mr. Thomson's red bird.
"I was really flummoxed at the beginning," the pet salesman says, adjusting his spectacles as an employee vacuums birdseed from the rug. Soon after the German wrote, a group of merry Scots having a dinner party in western China rang up. "We'd be happy if you'd settle an argument," they giggled into the phone. "How did these bags come to be here?"
Good question. A reconnaissance mission to the tiny, mountainous republic of Kyrgyzstan suggests western China itself is the source of all that is plastic and parrot-festooned. The traders bringing the bags here are Uighurs, the Muslim minority group from China's restive desert region of Xinjiang. They sell their wares at a giant, muddy market in the Kyrgyz capital of Bishkek, lunching on dumplings and noodles as shoppers paw through brightly colored fabrics, stacks of buckets and rows and rows of parrot bags.
"We don't talk to journalists," one mutters in broken Russian when asked about the bags, disappearing into a metal hut before his picture can be snapped.
These secretive agents, Mr. Thomson believes, buy the bags from a giant plastics factory in Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang. The plant prints about 150,000 bags for the pet shop a year and churns out millions of variations on the side for extra profit, he says, adding that some of his business associates suggested to him that the sacks may be part of an elaborate scheme to milk subsidies from the Chinese government. "The machines are going 24 hours a day, I'm told," he says.
Mr. Thomson's sacks carry the classic design -- a red parrot on a white bag with the address 992 Pollokshaws Road, Glasgow. Most of the bags in Central Asia once copied the same motif, only on a yellow sack. But a stroll through the Alamadeen food market in Bishkek shows the parrot has begun to mutate wildly. One knockoff boasts two red parrots, the wrong address on Pollokshaws Road and, oddly, the words "More, More, More!" Another shows two red robins clearly inspired by the parrot and the message "The Plastic Bag Shop. Welcome Patronage."
Mr. Thomson can't fathom why his parrot became the subject of such admiration. He's too busy with squawking birds and barking dogs to get to
Re:The best plastic bag story ever!
by
Svartalf
·
· Score: 3, Funny
As for the real live macaw that inspired the original bags, it never lived to see its name in lights, Mr. Thomson says: "I came in one day, and he was dead."
...It's an ex-parrot...
(Sorry, had to be said...:-)
-- I am not merely a "consumer" or a "taxpayer". I am a Citizen of the State of Texas
"if anyone had RTFA, they are banning bags of less then 30 *MICRONS* thickness. (The current bags are 17)"
Makes you wonder why Slashdot Submitters feel the need to sensationalize their stories. There must be aspirations to work for CNN. "Hi Mom. My description of a story is in print!"
-- "Derp de derp."
Re:But but...
by
Anonymous Coward
·
· Score: 1, Funny
RTA - only the thin bags are being banned. The thicker, more effective bags are still allowed. And so is duct tape.
Slashdot Mirror
I better dump my stash in this nearby ravine.
"I only speak the truth"
Karma: null(Mostly affected by an unassigned variable)
Why not punish those those citizens that choose to litter? Tazer to the genitals seems about right in line with this new legislation ;)
I bet there is some lawyer in Africa who has a thing for topology who is laughing his ass off right now.
My
Limekiller
Pity the men whose small sacks are now illegal...
(I'm pretty certain the site I plagiarized this from plagiarized it from the Wall Street Journal. I read it there, in essentially this form.)
Back in 1990, pet-store owner Stuart Thomson ordered new plastic bags for his store in Glasgow, Scotland. Within weeks, a stack of flimsy white sacks stamped with a red parrot and his Pet Shop's address showed up on his doorstep.
Mr. Thomson didn't give the matter any more thought until a letter arrived years later from a German trekker reporting odd tales from the sun-scorched bazaars of Central Asia. That was only the beginning. One by one, youthful backpackers, European diplomats and rugged mountain climbers started turning up at his shop like disciples, guided by the address on a plastic bag.
None had any interest in cat litter, poodles or aquariums. They had come to Glasgow in search of an answer to a mystery they had encountered on their travels thousands of miles away: Why, from the blue-tiled mosques of Uzbekistan to the hairpin turns of the mountainous Karakoram Highway, were so many people carrying bags adorned with Mr. Thomson's red parrot?
Border guards in Pakistan use them to hold their lunch. Kyrgyz shoppers stuff them with pickled fish, speckled rice and malodorous meat. Camels once traversed the sandy paths of Central Asia's legendary trade route, the Silk Road. But today's traders think nothing of carrying their wares in a Scottish parrot sack.
Without knowing it, Mr. Thomson had turned his cramped pet shop into one of the best-known brand names in Central Asia. In this age of global capitalism, the parrot sack is a bizarre mutation, a peculiar byproduct of the big bang that has led the planet's most diverse peoples and cultures to be united by nothing more substantial than the Nike swoosh, the Golden Arches or Mr. Thomson's red bird.
"I was really flummoxed at the beginning," the pet salesman says, adjusting his spectacles as an employee vacuums birdseed from the rug. Soon after the German wrote, a group of merry Scots having a dinner party in western China rang up. "We'd be happy if you'd settle an argument," they giggled into the phone. "How did these bags come to be here?"
Good question. A reconnaissance mission to the tiny, mountainous republic of Kyrgyzstan suggests western China itself is the source of all that is plastic and parrot-festooned. The traders bringing the bags here are Uighurs, the Muslim minority group from China's restive desert region of Xinjiang. They sell their wares at a giant, muddy market in the Kyrgyz capital of Bishkek, lunching on dumplings and noodles as shoppers paw through brightly colored fabrics, stacks of buckets and rows and rows of parrot bags.
"We don't talk to journalists," one mutters in broken Russian when asked about the bags, disappearing into a metal hut before his picture can be snapped.
These secretive agents, Mr. Thomson believes, buy the bags from a giant plastics factory in Urumqi, the capital of Xinjiang. The plant prints about 150,000 bags for the pet shop a year and churns out millions of variations on the side for extra profit, he says, adding that some of his business associates suggested to him that the sacks may be part of an elaborate scheme to milk subsidies from the Chinese government. "The machines are going 24 hours a day, I'm told," he says.
Mr. Thomson's sacks carry the classic design -- a red parrot on a white bag with the address 992 Pollokshaws Road, Glasgow. Most of the bags in Central Asia once copied the same motif, only on a yellow sack. But a stroll through the Alamadeen food market in Bishkek shows the parrot has begun to mutate wildly. One knockoff boasts two red parrots, the wrong address on Pollokshaws Road and, oddly, the words "More, More, More!" Another shows two red robins clearly inspired by the parrot and the message "The Plastic Bag Shop. Welcome Patronage."
Mr. Thomson can't fathom why his parrot became the subject of such admiration. He's too busy with squawking birds and barking dogs to get to
What I'm listening to now on Pandora...
"if anyone had RTFA, they are banning bags of less then 30 *MICRONS* thickness. (The current bags are 17)"
Makes you wonder why Slashdot Submitters feel the need to sensationalize their stories. There must be aspirations to work for CNN. "Hi Mom. My description of a story is in print!"
"Derp de derp."
RTA - only the thin bags are being banned. The thicker, more effective bags are still allowed. And so is duct tape.