Out, out, damned Yellow Pages

I thought it had been rather a long while since the accursed Yellow Pages have shown up on my doorstep. Turns out it was just last summer when I was harping on The Original Search Engine. So it's only a year and change since Verizon tossed a new bunch my way.

Usually, I haul them in, put them on the mail table in our building's vestibule, wait a couple of days for no one to pick one up, then toss them into recycle.

I would have done the same with this year's trove, except for the fact that these bundles of joy were all soaked through to the skin when I found them hovering on the front stoop the other morning. 

So: directly to recycle. (I did consider letting one of the books dry out, and adding it to my stash of toilet paper. Just in case. But, nah.)

As I have been asking for a good long time now, at least since 2011 - no, make that 2007 -  how can there be all that many people who still want or need The Yellow Pages? Sure, I'm happy (kinda, sorta) for the folks who produce and deliver it that they're still in business, as it gives them work. And apparently there's still enough interest in it for at least some sales people to make a living with the ad sales. Still, what a sad and buggy-whippy place to work. 

Yes, I'm sure that there are some among the elderly who look forward to receiving their Yellow Pages, even if it isn't the tome of yore. I'm sure that, if she were alive - which she wouldn't be, because she'd be 100, so she'd likely be dead by now - my mother would still want to be getting her phone books. And for those on the wrong side of the digital divide, and who have no smartphones, no Internet, The Yellow Pages are useful. Then there are the Luddites...

Now that I think about it, even if you don't want to keep The Yellow Pages around for emergency TP, it might be worth having if the Internet went down. After all, I might need to find a plumber or order a pizza. And where would I find the numbers if Yelp and Angie's List weren't available? Of course, if the Internet collapsed for a worrisome length of time, there's a non-zero chance your phone (especially if it's a landline) wouldn't work, either. Plus we'd all be in such a tizzy, plumbers and pizzas would be the least of our worries.

My bottom line on phone books: fine if someone actually wants one, but for god's sake, stop delivering them far and wide to those who don't.

Having searched for the info on how to cancel (using the Internet, natch), I just emailed the cancelation service. I believe I've done this in the past, but here's hoping that this time it will work. We really do need to cut down on this tremendous environmental waste.