The Story of Mary Molly the Guacamole, And Other Nonsense Poems

"I loved a guacamole named Mary Molly,  

She went on adventures all over the city.  

She was clever as Kissinger & cute as a kitty,  

And as guacamoles go, she was tasty as gee golly."

Proudly announcing the self-publishing of our illustrated poetry book The Story of Mary Molly the Guacamole, And Other Nonsense Poems on the Amazon marketplace. You can read it on any Kindle app, and members of Amazon Prime can check it out for free from the Kindle Lending Library.

“The Story of Mary Molly the Guacamole And Other Nonsense Poems” is a beautiful illustrated book of strange, rhyming nonsense verse in the vein of Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll. The stories herein are sure to delight and appall readers of all ages. Romance! Adventure! Cross-Species Love Affairs! This collection contains “The Story of Mary Molly the Guacamole,” “The Story of Omega’s Rampage,” “The Story of the Long Distance Relationship,” “The Story of Barbara Ann and Barbara Allen,” “The Story of the Lizard Wizard of North Northumberland,” and “The Story of Meghan & the Mini Megatherium.” With more than thirty original full-color illustrations by Grainne Proinseas and Maymo Mary.

Department of Quotes & Conversations: Why Buy 3 Bottles of Two Buck Chuck

Overheard conversation at Trader Joe's in Berkeley an hour ago: One man to another, justifying have three bottles of Charles Shaw in his basket:

"You know how when you buy two bottles, after you finish one, you're like, oh, I only have one bottle left. But when you buy three, after you finish one, you're like, I have two bottles left."

Unsurprisingly, I also had three bottles of Charles Shaw in my basket (pink wine to mix with lemonade for our Midsummer Shakespeare picnic tomorrow. I'll be playing Robin Goodfellow.)

The Manna Tease Live at Adobe Books, 8 July 2011

Good morning. The Manna Tease played a small gig at a book store in San Francisco on Friday, and there are a few good videos of some of our new songs. What the HECK, I'm going to put them all up here, if you want to see the show.

We opened with the premiere of "Come to the Berkeley Bunghole," which is about our dream of opening a workingman's wine bar.



Lyrics & chords:

Come to the Berkeley Bunghole

emin

G bmin7 emin
It’s five o’clock in England.
C G G/B Cmaj7 amin9
Jupiter’s closed, but the Bunghole is wide open.
G bmin7 emin D Cmaj7 amin9 emin
There’s a place where the Reagan Administration never happened,
G bmin7 emin D Cmaj7 amin9
And Mama Bethany is always glad to see you again.

emin C G D

Come to the Berkeley Bunghole!

emin C G D

The workingman’s wine bar, the pauper’s pub,

emin C G G/F# emin

Your wallet’s empty, but your glass is full,

Cmaj7 amin9 bmin7 emin

Let’s tap this barrel! Let’s boogie in the club!

The graveyard shift is ended.
It’s Sunday Morning & BART hasn’t started,
There’s a place where the sadness of the street has been suspended,
And Mama Bethany is big bosom’d & big hearted.

Morning breaks in Tilden Park:
The idle rich are hiking with their labradoodles.
But in this place, the music’s loud and neon lights burn dark.
And Mama Bethany makes a mean cup of Ramen noodles.

Allons-y a la Bonde Berkeley!

Le café ouvriere, le pub indigents.
L'escarcelle est vide, mais la coupe est pleine.
On tape ce baril! nous boogie dans le club!

©The Manna Tease 2011

We did two songs from our Epic Murder Ballad Song Cycle, The Manna Sustains: Young Manasseh's Stains & Pink Mary's Stains.





This performance of "It's a Snoopy Snoopy Poop Doggy Ratty Rat World" turned out pretty good:



I did my song "Isa Bowman," the video's here if you care to see it, although the performance was a bit flawed. And finally, here's our much-awaited premiere of tomorrow's chart-topping single "Whoops! my bosoms come flying out!"



Lyrics & chords:

whoops! my bosoms come flying out!

dmin

emin C bmin A dmin
Wonderful suburbs, the roads to the safeway of this world.
emin C bmin A dmin
Stuffed in my tube top, my goldilocks shampooed, long and curled.
A G (emin)
As I fill my cart with seasonal fruits,
A emin G A
My top explodes all over the cantaloops, and

dmin C F A

Whoops! my bosoms come flying out!

dmin

Whoops! my bosoms! Whoops! my bosoms!

dmin C F A

Whoops! my bosoms come flying out!

Powerful pantsuit, the honorable senator from Nebrasker,
Storming the forum, never lack-lustre if her luck’ll last her.
I will muster all my brimstone & bluster,
Ask her how to bust this blasted filibuster, and

Whoops! my bosoms come flying out! &c...

Blast off & cast off into our culture’s future frontier,
Across the universe, headfirst in a shuttle shooting somewhere.
I am absolutely safe in my spacesuits,
But a blackhole ripple ripens my sexy spacefruits, and

Whoops! my bosoms come flying out! &c...

G A G A

Bosoms all over the place! - - - Bosoms all over deep space! ©The Manna Tease 2011

Thanks to The Matinees for arranging that "variety show" + poetry reading. Please "like" The Manna Tease on Facebook.

Three Years Ago: Chronicles: Legendary Costume Designer Asks: Are You a Poet?

Today, on Three Years Ago, our legendary series where we repost a post from exactly three years ago, I've dug up a rare "biographical" blog entrée. Thank heavens this is an unusual occurrence:

_____________________________________________________________

Last week, I was rejected from a graduate school program I had applied to, so I vowed to go on a 48-hour Steve Zissou-style bender, wake up next week, draft a new plan for the next few years of my life, then set out to find the shark that ate my friend & destroy it. Friday Night began with several pitchers of Piña Coladas with my friend Heather from Interlochen. The basic recipe for our concoction is as follows:

Mix in blender:
-Half of a delicious fresh organic pneapple
-Half a handle of clear rum
-The meat of a fine mango
-Pineapple-coconut juice (I used the R.W. Knudsen brand, which conveniently sells this mix)
-About five strawberries
-Ice

Saturday, Heather, who was singing in the pit orchestra for the San Francisco Ballet's piece Eden/Eden, with music from Steve Reich's Three Tales (the one about Dolly the Sheep, robots, & cloning), was able to get three free tickets to the ballet. As a tangent, did you know that Dolly the Sheep was named after Dolly Parton because the gene from which they cloned her was from the host's mammary? As Parton said, "I hope people realize that there is a brain underneath the hair & a heart underneath the boobs." There's interesting moments in Reich's score, but the ballet orchestra lacked the intense drive to keep the motion forward-propulsing for a full half hour. However, the original video opera was pretty mediocre, & rescuing the music & replacing the imagery with some amazing dancing & choreography is a great service.

Coincidentally, our friend Mr Golden was working next door at the Veteran's building repairing a model buffalo for an exhibition of ballet costumes designed by Willa Kim. After the ballet & some St Patrick's day beer, we crashed the art opening (as "volunteers", which we indeed ended up being.) One of my friends was free-wine-inspired to get herself a sugar-daddy in the guise of an rich older SF ballet alum. We missed the lecture, but when nonagenarian Willa Kim was being escorted out, the volunteers stopped her to tell her they had enjoyed working on her costumes. After some flattery, she turned to me & said:

Willa Kim: You look like you must be a poet!
Your hero: Well, uh, yes, I am.
Sycophantic escort: My, Ms. Kim, how prescient you are!
Willa Kim: He looks like a poet!
Your hero: It's all nonsense, tho. I mean, my poetry is nonsense.
Mr Golden: We're working on an epic with illuminations.
Willa Kim: Well, best of luck to you, &c.....

According to the imdb, Willa Kim is known by the nickname "Willa Killa". We then hit some schwanky downtown bars, & escorted my sloshy friend to the BART. The night ended by Mr Golden cleaning my clock at put-put golf at his Ingleside apartment.

Sunday Morning, I had arranged (despite a dead mobile phone) to meet a blind date at a famous Mimosa Bar in the Castro, The Lime. As a co-founder of the dogmatic evangelical religious cult, The Mimosa's Witnesses, I was morally bound to investigate this mecca of Mimosa transubstantiation, which has bottomless flutes for $7 at Sunday Brunch. The place is ridiculous & perfectly over-the-top, with a bright-green nightclub decor, thumping music, packed with revelers at 11 A.M. Many of our fellow witnesses looked far more L.A. than S.F., with plastic breasts, &c. We should tithe them.

Waiter: Hello, I haven't seen you here for awhile!
Your hero: I've never been here before. This is my first time.
Waiter: Really!? You look just like one of our regulars.
Your hero: No, perhaps I have a Doppelgänger? Or perhaps you're mistaking me for Ralf from Kraftwerk.

As for my blind date, she had enormous false eyelashes & drove an orange Mustang sports car! Anyway, we must plan an official service with the regular Mimosa's Witnesses at this bizarre Castro day-club. As I explained to my date, just like there are hippie Christians & conservative Christians, these fake-boobed coked-up proselytes were worshipping under the same, broad tent as the Tahoe Mimosa's Witnesses & the Berkeley Mimosa's Witnesses.

My day proceeded by sobering up at Philz Coffee in the Mission & having my clock cleaned at chess with Mr Golden. The San Francisco semi-regular Sacred Harp singing was at an episcopal church on Fair Oaks (one of the cutest streets in that neighborhood), & was well attended, including two members of the awesome group Anonymous 4 (who, with their background in St Hildegaard, now have two excellent albums of American harmony, & are working on continuing that project. Listen to them!) Singing exultantly, mission accomplished, & I'm now accepting suggestions for what to do next with my life.

News: Man shot dead across the street from HERE

Six shots across the street from me at 3:41am! (I peacefully slept thru it... My upstairs neighbor called the cops, & I woke up from the doorbell.) From the East Bay Express:

It has finally happened: The victim of an armed robbery in Berkeley has been shot and killed.

Those of us who follow crime reports in Berkeley know that armed robberies, while not frequent, are common on these streets. The UC Police Department issues bulletins about such stickups every other week or so; the Berkeley Police Department has stopped posting its daily crime logs online, but before it stopped posting them, armed robberies were reported about every week. But the sequence of events is the same almost every time: Pedestrian walks along minding his or her own business; robber appears suddenly (having walked up behind victim or head-on into victim or having jumped out of a car that has pulled up alongside victim); robber points gun at victim and threatens to kill victim; victim hands over cash or places it on sidewalk as directed; robber seizes property and departs. Sometimes the robbers sadistically punch or kick or pistol-whip the victims before departing, but don't kill them.

This has changed. An armed-robbery victim was murdered in South Berkeley early this morning. An email just received from BPD Sergeant Mary Kusmiss reads:

"City of Berkeley Police Department Homicide Detectives are investigating an early morning shooting at Adeline and Emerson Streets in South Berkeley that has left one man dead.

"On Sunday morning, at approximately 3:41 a.m., the victim, a 35 year old man who moved to the City of Berkeley in February and his fiancée were walking home after having attended a party. Two male suspects confronted the couple with the intent to commit a robbery. During the robbery, one of the suspects shot the victim. One of the suspects also punched the woman during the crime. She sustained minor physical injuries.

"The suspects got into an older model possible midsize two tone Sport Utility Vehicle (SUV) and fled west bound on Ashby Avenue after the crimes.

"Berkeley Fire Department (BFD) paramedics transported the victim to a local trauma center where he was pronounced dead. BPD will not be releasing the victim’s name out of respect for those family or friends that have yet to learn of his death. In addition, BPD waits for verification of a homicide victim’s identity until it is confirmed by fingerprints taken during the Alameda County Coroner’s autopsy process.

"BPD is urging anyone who may know anything about this homicide to call the BPD Homicide Detail at (510) 981-5741 or the 24 hour BPD non emergency number of (510) 981-5900. If a community member wishes to remain anonymous, he/she is encouraged to call the Bay Area Crimes Stoppers (BACS) at (800)-222-TIPS (8477). Any information may be critical to solving this crime. Sometimes the smallest or seemingly insignificant detail can be the key to arresting the suspect or suspects in any crime."

the benevolent otherhood vol. 1, summer 2010 - Read it online here!

The Benevolent Otherhood is a secret writing society in Oakland and Berkeley, California. Founded in 1899, its current members include Alisa Dodge, Cathlin Goulding, Corinna Lefkowitz, Pepper Luboff, and S. Sandrigon.

Cover art is by Mario Zamarripa. Other illuminations by Olaf Mary, Chris Rae, & Minnie Molly Mary.

We had our zine release party Monday night at Mama Buzz in Oakland, to a crowd hungry for new poetry. We also had musical guests: Stas Feldman, members of the Avatar ensemble, & Friends Around the Campfire. A limited 50 physical copies were made, so I'm proud to present a free digital version:

the benevolent otherhood - vol. 1, summer 2010

Scribd Illumination: Consideration Song

And now (after several unreadable copies with bad fonts) I present an illuminated digital book for the nonsense poem Consideration Song. The photographs were taken by Miss Minnie Molly Mary at the Belgum Sanitarium in the hills above Richmond, California, and the cover photo was photoshopped by my brother.

Consideration Song

With these scribd books, I recommend F11 to fullscreen your browser, and then fullscreening the scribd document (there's a button). The original text of the poem was published here. My epic 163-pg 2009 illuminated poetry book Prophecy & Doggerel has been up for sale for $2.15 at scribd, after being on the market for twelve months, you can still be the first person to ever buy it!

Lowell Darling for California Governor

Yes, there is someone you should vote for in the California gubernatorial race, my dear Californian readers. His name is Lowell Darling, the profession noted below his name on the ballot in the Democratic primary on June 8, 2010 is "Independent Artist". Darling ran for governor of California once before, in 1977, and he's taking another shot at it. His only campaign promise is to do nothing until the legislative idiocy that prevents California from doing anything about it's perennial fiscal apocalypse is fixed. Read more in this nice little N.Y Times piece about him if you wish:



http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/14/us/14calif.html

and please do have a look at his video art here:

http://www.lowelldarling.com/archive.html

Consideration Song

Consideration Song

Like matchsticks soaked in olive oil, his detumescent pudenda,

Lubricated with espresso & soymilk, against a backdrop of blacktop,

He sets before her, registered in fifteen counties as a interspecies sex offender,

But also a genuinely nice guy, a shy fop, and a bit of a metaphysical rent-a-cop.

“Dear madam,” so he says to her, “please let me make my case,

“And you can judge me as a man, radiating viridescent bioluminescence,

“You can judge my stature & stamina, as the apex of my race,

“And consider my pathetic plea, down on one knee before your presence.”

“What do you want?” she responds. “I’ll consider the celebrity

“In sunglasses at midnight. Yes, I’ll wait for chipotle-flavored iguana

“In a latin restaurant frequented by the elderly. I’ll live in a city
“Of rum & obesity. And I’ll be gregarious whenever I wanna.”

Into Blake Street’s birthmark, not so much a pothole as a furious chasm,

Like lime squeezed in your cocktail of pain, he revs his engines.

His last girlfriend was a dugong, one suspected of artificial orgasm,

But now he comes to her with proposed fealty, humility, and courtly vengeance.

“Dear madam,” so he says to her, “If you find it convenient,

“Come live with me & let me be your Nicolas Sarkozy.
“Loud as space & silent as a dinosaur’s covenant,

“Please consider my pathetic pleas, perfumey, chocolatey & rosy.”

“What do you want?” she responds. “I’ll consider my colonoscopy

“Broadcast live on CNN. I’ll give careful consideration

“To a dead reindeer, yes. And I’ll keep a daily diary

“Of my expectral viscosity, yes, I’ll log every expectoration.”

Like a burnt up matchstick, beneath a dwarf magnolia,

He sits expired. Then, like Russia rearing his head above Alaska,

He ascends & at first stutters uttering the world "allolalia",

Collects himself & asks her faster than an answer from a paster from Nebraska.

"Dear madam," so he says to her, "Do you have any plans this Friday?

"Would you be available to me my date at a movie premiere?

"It's about the liquid siftings of pigeons, making the shroud untidy,

"Staining the rain white Friday night: Would you consider accompanying me there?"

"What do you want?" she responds. "My parents are in town Friday,

"But I'll consider a rain check. Yes, there's a goatee growing

"On my chin music. I'll consider scuttlebutting society,

"And fiends aflame! Pull up your zipper, your panties are showing."

Into Blake Street's birthmark, we find an underground conquistador

Hoarding gems & he discovers a fountain of liquid youth.

Meanwhile, a NASA shuttle has erupted from the water

And whizzes past Messenger Mercury, loose like the truth is sometimes uncouth.

"Dear madam," so he says to her, "Consider my plumage,

"My pinions stretched to the four compass points, my pettifoggeries

"Exiled to the ends of the earth. Consider the night nurse's rampage:

"Consider a marriage beneath Berkeley's blossoming magnolia trees."

"What do you want?" she responds. "I'll consider letting you have it.

"I'll put our pre-nup in the shredder & toss the shreds in a salad.

"No, I've judged your stamina & I'm snugglier now than a pregnant rabbit.

"Now consider my innocence, & know my imagination's hesitation was valid."

Apologies

I've been blogging less because my computer is so goddamn'd slow! It's a sad, slow world for me these days.

There's so much to write about these days also! Ice Dancing, teabagging, ski-jumping, aerial dog hunting, ice dancing...

Cosmo Wernicky, for instance, writes to me:

from: Cosmo Wernicky ____@gmail.com to :S. Sandrigon _____@itwaslost.org date :Mon, Feb 22, 2010 at 9:27 PM subject: plane ol' sycamore mailed-by :gmail.com signed-by: gmail.com

Were we talking about this? because I just sent this email to Doug and he claims that his father was not involved:

I just came across some information that may ease your mind a bit. If you recall, we had in the recent past been discussing those knobby trees that abound in our environs. I identified them as London Planetrees, while your father claimed they are sycamores. WELL, as it turns out, London Planetrees are a cross between a sycamore and an Oriental Planetree. Hot.
If you care

Correspondences: Craziest Couchsurfing Request Ever

That there's some more classic Whales Standing Up art from Mr Olaf Mary, circa 2004.
I've had nothing but good experiences with couchsurfing.com. I've stayed with lovely hosts in Europe, & hosted lovely travelers from Europe, North & South America. Sometimes tho, I get a request from a crazy person, & I think this one wins the award for craziest request. It was from a 20-year-old girl from Nova Scotia:

Okay. I am leaving _____ and coming to Berkeley to

set up camp. I am a crazy girl but I do have a lot of

guts. I am going to run my own cafe/resto/bar and it's

going to be government funded. Why the hell not? I have

a small debt to pay but what I would like to do is pay

for a massage course which I have also done in _____.

I need to be able to practise legally with a good

reputation in order to support myself while...Anyway I

am looking for a room in an artist commmunity/house.

Hippy, environmentalist. Forward mided people only no

scumbag student know it alls. No beurocratic bullshit.

I like clutter but not dirt. Not smelly. I want to be

able to pay $300 a month and be around

twenty-thirty-eight year olds. Only. If possible. Not

interested in having sex, already got somebody. But

really what I will be doing is starting a herd of wild

horses. I will be owning my own property soon and

living happily ever after. The end. Still need my

driver's liscence. Want have dogs off leashes and

outdoor cats. Goats are better lawnmowers than

lawnmowers. Etc. My mother. did this in Ohio where I

was born she did it well and I suppose she's happy

enough. I like it there. Good enough. anyway=I am

looking for a place to stay until I find my

room/roommate cafe job artist/activist housing

situation but no ugly minded people no bullies. I like

travellors but I don't want to live in a punk house.

Punk's dead happened in the 80s. We're starting new

now. Time to stop bitching and get on with it. So

anyway. If you are at all available for a chat on the

phone I am thinking of leaving on the twenty-ninth.

Could we please chat? I think I will be staying only

for three days at a time until I find what I am looking

for. I will be flying to SAn Fran and then taking the

bus to Berkeley. Will not have much stuff but will come

prepared. I'll need to buy a phone right away so if you

know of a cheap pay as you go phone right on. Let me

know if you can help me out at all. thanks a lot man.

bunches. -S_____

Three Years Ago: Essay on Distance

Our continuing series, a yearlong celebration of the three-year anniversary of this blog, we reprint what I wrote exactly three years ago, to the minute. This essay is interesting because I still feel similarly; & I've made drinking friends in Berkeley, some of which are the Brooklyn friends who slowly realized I was on to something by moving to Berkeley.

________________________________________________________

After college, many of my friends settled in Brooklyn, the only place in America I have no interest in living. I went away to one boarding school for four years & one college for four years (including one year abroad in England). Relationships are, of course, measured in both time & space. During my eight years of education, I developed many close friendships, all of which were displaced every spring. Few people, when they are deciding where to go after school, would take into much consideration where their friends will be moving. Ambitions, art scenes, employment opportunities, desire for travel, love – these preside over keeping “the gang” together. Drinking companions are best found around the corner, anyway, & are easily replaced. Still, some friendships are more mystical, inspiring, collaborative.

Look what happens to the average “long-distance relationship.” Either the couple is together, then moves to separate locations, & there is a gradual idealization & growing apart, resulting in catastrophe; or, they move apart, & then move back together after a time, & the gradual idealization & growing apart results in an awkward period of disillusionment. This is an extremely generalized over-simplification: some long-distance relationships have ended in the happiest marriages. What about friendships in the age of e-mail, cellphones, & MySpace? Perhaps, because there is no pressure for ceaseless love & daily communication, one can make these connections in college, for instance, & continue to receive the mystical collaborative elements thru e-mail, whilst receiving his drinking-companion needs around the corner (if around the corner offers no conversations about Bartók or Thomas de Quincey.)

My high school & college friends have settled in a startling plethora of locals – New York, London, Liverpool, India, Hainan, Alabama, Massachusetts, L.A., Brazil, & even Texas. I was saddened that few of my close friends visited me when I was living in Tahoe, a place I wanted to show off, but who can blame them with travel so inefficient & expensive. I've moved to the bay area to increase the feeling of community, & already surprising people have visited & plan to visit. I'm not having much luck establishing regular drinking companions, tho, but that comes with patience & employment.

The book I am reading is by William McDonough & Michael Braungart, a chemist & an architect who propose redesigning how things are made. Valuable technical materials & chemicals are regularly mixed with natural materials, & disposed in land fills where both are useless. They suggest that everything can be made to be infinitely recyclable or immediately biodegradable, separating the biosphere from the “technosphere”. Newspapers, for instance, are made from recycling things things that were not meant to be recycled, & are printed on with toxic inks, & bleached with more chemicals, & are useless after one or two cycles – everything is always “downcycled.” This book, Cradle to Cradle, is not made out of a tree, but of high quality plastics & safe inks. It is extremely durable & waterproof; but when it is thrown “away”, it can be washed & melted to create another equally high quality book. They suggest that current methods of recycling are merely “less bad”, & often placate the liberal masses with righteousness; however, it is possible to a create a system that is “good.” Slowing down the current destructive industrial system could actually be worse in the long run; & preaching “efficiency” & being conservative with resources just pisses off capitalists obsessed with growth. It pits environmentalists against industry. In nature however, growth is good. (Their example is of a cherry tree, whose excess blossoms & fruit are not “waste” but nourishing & beautiful.)

I just got to a part where they suggest that all sustainability is local. Diversity, adaptability, culture, dialect: these are successful reactions to location for both nature & human society. And this Earth offers an almost infinite variety of locations, all of which life has adapted to inhabit. Sustainable local systems nourish your community, & add up to a fully nourished macrocosm. Liberals often point out that Super-Walmarts in sprawled suburban areas hurt every aspect of society: “Main Street” culture, the local economy, the quality of your neighbor's jobs, lack of support for local agriculture, the quality & ethics of distant agriculture, the amount of fossil fuels burned to transport the products, all the unnecessary packaging waste, and the list goes on. I would never imply that long distance friendships are the Walmarts of Modern America. But, your average white post-college American liberal tends to be semi-nomadic, befriending people everywhere, & settling in a baffling array of places. I would like to see a statistic for how many settled where they grew up. Conservative Midwesterners, as a stereotype, are much more family & hometown oriented.

Plato often evokes love for God by discussing love between humans, & mystics use the language of the natural world to describe the subtle heavens. Human connections – a web of nourishment, waste, & sustainability – can perhaps be understood with a model of community, agriculture, energy flows, and Walmarts. Or, more likely, they are a synecdoche (an inclusive metaphor, a metaphor which is included in what it stands for.) Friendship & love are as much a part of a balanced, healthy society as the politics, food cycles, architecture, & everything else. Indeed, this spiritual interconnection can be seen as the soul to a town's body. The Electoral College in a huge county deprives local communities of an actual democracy (in California, for instance, I know we'll get the democratic presidential vote, so there's no reason to campaign or canvass or even argue with my neighbor.) Could the combination of cheap travel, easy relocation, the Internet, and sprawl add up to a modern civilization where friendships are like the disposable diapers that fill up our landfills?