You're the woman who approached me and my two children at Fashion Island to announce, “We're saving the beaches this afternoon.” When I realized what you wanted, I politely said, “I need to take them shopping.” But as we walked away, you decided to adopt a tone of pity and added, “Aw, I bet they would like to save the beaches,” referring to my kids. I didn't stop, but I wanted to let you know I don't appreciate you using my kids to get to me. This was our first outing in months that I've been able to spend some time with them—bumming around the mall, going to the pet store to look at the puppies and kittens, and getting some ice cream. Sometimes, that kind of plan has to be enough for an afternoon. I'm sorry I can't compare with your day's goal of saving the coastal wetlands, but you should know how annoying you are. You are a fucking cliché, lady. Even the dolphins roll their eyes when they see you coming, armed with your clipboard full of dubious signatures and your general sense of righteousness about the planet. I'll continue to pick up my garbage at the beach, avoid washing any crap into the drains on my street, and let my kids know to not touch the ocean wildlife. Perhaps you can meet us halfway by treating your own species as considerately as you treat all the others.
