When I awoke this morning, my non-existent friend, I noted for perhaps the 456th time how inexpensively my country is made. Plastic, one-use, containers that cannot be reused or recycled; automobiles that carry with them debt for the mere five years they are viable as reliable means of transportation; co-workers whose friendliness conceals treachery. There is not a single thing, no lone moment, that refrains from the in-expense of profit-driven indolence. I cannot seal that resealable jar that I purchased; my avocados are brown on the surface and hard at the core; my toothbrush performs badly because of its lack of firmness that is too firm, supposedly. The repairs of a centenarian rocking chair are fused together with the least costly adhesives and flimsiest of metals. The culture follows with its immersion in constant entertainment and its inability to appreciate the difficulties and virtues of statecraft. The very tradition itself lacks expense, no appreciation for the past and little regard for the future, since nothing is done about wildfires and melting ice that prove the earth burns.
A cheaply constructed, inexpensive cap to a water jar releases all these things.