5 'Innocent' Things We Do (Are Environmentally Catastrophic)

To put this all in even more perspective, it takes the average American around two months' worth of driving to produce just one metric ton of carbon dioxide. So, basically, doing actual donuts in a mall parking lot is only marginally worse for the environment than doing the same in Grand Theft Auto, assuming you don't take out any strollers in the process. You could just unplug your system every time you finish using it, but then you wouldn't get the aforementioned automatic updates required to play every modern video game until the next time you turned it back on, and most of us would rather slowly poison the Earth than have to wait for a download.

Don't feel too bad, though, because you're not alone: The world chews around 560,000 tons of gum every year. As a point of comparison, Americans burn through about 3 million tons of car tires each year. Big deal, right? Gum is candy; tires are part of a huge manufacturing industry. Now, here's the more important statistic: Thanks to recycling, only 10 percent of those tires -- or 300,000 tons -- end up in landfills. When's the last time you spat your gum into a recycling bin?

Probably never, because there's no such thing as gum recycling. All that gum goes straight into the trash, then into a landfill, or spat onto the sidewalk where it costs cities more than $2 per wad to clean up.

The free elves option was struck down by unions.

For those wondering why we used tires to put this issue in perspective: It's because Goodyear, the famous tire/blimp conglomerate, also manufactures the base ingredient of most chewing gum. See, at some point humanity decided that natural tree resins weren't nearly as fun to chew as a crude oil byproduct that will never, ever go away (unless you're referring specifically to its flavor, which vanishes almost instantly). So while gum doesn't really stay in your stomach for seven years if you swallow it, if you spit it out it absolutely will remain undecayed in a landfill until the heat death of the universe.

But all that sexy driveway car-washing impacts far more than the blindingness of your rims. The average American water hose pumps out about 11 gallons of water every minute, meaning that if you spend just 15 minutes rinsing your car, you'll blast through over 150 gallons. Automatic washes, meanwhile, use at most 70 gallons, while the timed self-serve variety use less than 20. The presence of cut-off jeans and Def Leppard does not positively or negatively affect this.

Another difference between commercial facilities and your driveway is that the commercial facilities recycle their water for multiple washes before sending it off to a waste treatment plant, while the water you spray at home ends up in a storm drain that empties directly into nearby rivers and lakes. Even if you dump your dirty wash bucket into the toilet (which no one does), you're still rinsing all those harsh cleaning chemicals, in addition to the oil, gasoline, and rust residues from your car, straight into some fish's goddamn living room. You may as well drive out to the nearest watershed and beat an otter to death with your spotless rims.

Greek yogurt's meteoric success over the last few years is a testament to the efficiency of capitalism -- you can build a multi-million-dollar industry out of any standard product by marginally changing its appearance and marketing it as miracle health food. "It's thicker! Like a healthier ice cream!"

Truth be told, Greek yogurt is normal yogurt, just with most of the whey -- the gross liquid left over after milk has curdled -- strained out. This results in a product that is denser in protein, making it attractive to the fitness-minded consumer as well as people who enjoy eating spoonfuls of spoiled milk. It takes three or four ounces of milk to make a single ounce of Greek yogurt, meaning that the amount of waste produced is actually greater than the amount of product.

Another thing? All that strained-out whey is potentially environmentally toxic. Even worse, despite convincing the populace that eating Greek yogurt was the next best thing to blowing John Stamos ...

... yogurt companies had absolutely no idea what the hell they were going to do with the leftover toxic whey.

Now, when we say "toxic," we don't mean that falling into a vat of it at the Dannon plant is going to turn you into a mutant. The main problems are that A) it's acidic, and B) it's being pumped out at an unmanageable rate. The Northeast U.S. alone produces more than 150 million gallons of the stuff a year. You can't simply dump all that in a river and hope for the best, because "the best" in this case would be an oxygen-deprived dead zone for marine life.

Thus far, the yogurt producers' best plan to deal with the ocean-sized whey problem has been to sell it to farmers. It makes decent fertilizer when mixed with good old-fashioned poop (remember, this is the same product you're willingly trading money to eat). But you can only feed a cow so much of its own dregs before it starts wishing it had bigger horns to gore you with, which is why others are looking to solve the dilemma by bottling all that whey up and selling it back to you as health drinks, because the human race is doomed to extinction by pretentiousness.

You know what they say, though, about there being two sides to every coin. Anyone who's watched the financial perplexities of the United States Postal Service over the past several years knows that it's facing obsolescence thanks to newer, more instant nudity-friendly forms of communication. And considering the fact that junk accounts for more than half of our mail, you might say that junk mail is the reason we even still have a postal service at all. Of course, the third side to that severely warped coin is that the USPS pumps out its own 10-plus metric tons of greenhouse gases each year.

Add that to the aforementioned 50 million, and the result is an ocean of polar bear tears.

So what can we do about it? Well, for starters we can toss the junk in the recycling bin rather than the garbage. It won't stop the bulk mailers from producing it, but at least if it gets recycled you can eventually get it back as toilet paper and wipe your ass with it. Next, with a few phone calls and emails, you can remove yourself from the vast majority of junk mailings. It takes a bit more effort than tossing it straight into the garbage, but that's kind of the point: Saving something generally takes more work than destroying it.

If you're upset about the fact that everything you do kills the planet, Nathan can try to cheer you up on Twitter.

Which Sci-Fi Trope Would You Bring To The Real World, And Why? Every summer, we're treated to the same buffet of three or four science fiction movies with the same basic conceits. There's man vs. aliens, man vs. robots, man vs. army of clones, and man vs. complicated time travel rules. With virtual reality and self-driving cars fast approaching, it's time to consider what type of sci-fi movie we want to be living in for the rest of our lives. Co-hosts Jack O'Brien and Adam Tod Brown are joined by Cracked's Tom Reimann and Josh Sargent and comedians David Huntsberger, Adam Newman, and Caitlin Gill to figure out which sci-fi trope would be the best to make a reality. Get your tickets to this live podcast here!

For more ways we're killing ourselves, check out The 6 Most Insane Ways Going Green Can Backfire and 6 Awesome-Looking Things That Are Destroying The World.

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