> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.smdp.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # The ocean is not a toilet - URL: https://www.smdp.com/the-ocean-is-not-a-toilet/ - Published: 2008-08-19T15:00:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-25T00:43:31.000Z - Author: Guest Author - Tags: Opinion, Venice, #archive-import *By Phyllis Chavez The Quackers* Meet the Quackers, three young surf ducks, born and raised in the canals of Venice. Their passion in life: surfing and saving the earth. Their mission: To spread the word about protecting the environment by cleaning up pollution and stopping global warming. MY BROTHER RUSTY’S PHILOSOPHY IS “Every day is a good day as long as you can make it to the beach.” I don’t always agree with him, on this, I must. Pressed for time yesterday, we set out early seeking our “good day.” It was barely light when we arrived. Already the warm, golden light from the rising sun had kissed the day. The three of us stood there mesmerized, watching the current weave abstract designs through the dark, cobalt blue water. The sky was opening to a softer, lighter blue, streaked with yellow at the horizon. Three perfect, white clouds drifted by. Silently, gulls glided overhead riding the air currents. There was not much wave action but we decided to paddle out and wait. There is something infinitely peaceful about just sitting in the water, waves or no waves. There we were, three decidedly handsome ducks sitting on our boards enjoying this lovely, but almost flat ocean, longing for some waves to ride. Rusty was on his board, lying on his back with his wings tucked behind his head. He pointed his bill to the sky and started belting out some old Beach Boy tunes. He says their songs make him feel happy. I can’t say he is a really good singer. I will say he is a very loud and enthusiastic one. If he happens to forget the actual words to a song, he just inserts a series quacks and keeps on going. Richard had paddled close by and was talking about, you guessed it, plants. Give him a minute and he will plan, map and offer to execute a garden design for you. If you don’t have room for that he will tell you how to pot a mini-garden in your window. He read about the “Guerrilla Gardeners,” that group that goes around beautifying neglected areas of the city, and immediately joined them. I think he also likes dressing like a ninja for their night time gardening forays. I can just see him rubbing his wings together with delight thinking, “Today Santa Monica, tomorrow Mar Vista!” Richard doesn’t like it when we say he is obsessed with plants and growing things. He prefers “extremely focused.” We do wonder about him though when even clouds look like flowers, vegetables or trees to him. I hope he never has to take a Rorschach test! I had shared with Richard an article about the “Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” You know, that swirling, gigantic garbage dump floating around between Hawaii and California. He thought I was kidding or crazy. He couldn’t imagine millions of pounds of toxic, floating trash in our ocean and nothing being done about it. I told him, “Dude, it is twice the size of Texas and growing!” He was shocked that most of it came from the shore not from ships. The fact that it was mostly plastic and not biodegradable really concerned him. He felt sick when I told him that over time it became increasingly toxic and was a threat to the entire food chain. He went from not believing, to horrified. So, I was not surprised when his boredom led him to counting the debris he noticed floating by. Unfortunately, there was no shortage. At that moment, he vowed to bring something with him next time to collect the trash and get it out of the water. He counted empty cups and popsicle sticks. An invasion of jellyfish turned out to be discarded plastic bags! He saw plastic lighters, plastic spoons, paper, some things he just couldn’t identify and an old Band- Aid. There was so much trash he used up all the feathers on his right wing counting, then all the feathers on his left wing. Both feet had been exhausted in the count too. He had nothing left to count with. How could there be so much trash anywhere and most importantly what was it doing in the ocean? His frustration was building. When he finally bellowed, “Enough! That is enough!” He was quacking and sputtering angrily under his breath. He said, “Richard, our beloved ocean is becoming a trash can, no, a toilet!” He was fuming. Deeply frustrated, he cupped his wing tips to his bill, took a deep breath and screamed toward the shore, “HEL-LO over there! I guess you know this doesn’t flush!” *Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on August 19, 2008.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/081908.pdf?ref=smdp.com)