A report broadcast over a local teevee station in Santa Barbara about a posh neighborhood within that realm details dumping of tailings. Some have been mining up in the hills and the refuse from the digs is scarring the mountains.
The offenders have appeared as sorrowful and promised to do something about it. They say, we'll fix it. They set about in thoughtful poses seeming to do just that.
"I know!" says one. "We'll offer up free tile!"
Yes, that should do it. So they announce over the teevee station they will provide tile for a cross community, to atone for scarring the mountains with their tailings.
Home Depot was the designated distributor, and when they opened their doors the morning after the announcement from the forlorn fortunates up the mountains, hordes of the homeless rushed in. Where is the tile? they asked. We're here for the tile.
The platinum patricians had not sent word about screening the applicants. So the staff at Home Depot simply passed out the square sections of Navajo prints or wildwood flowers to anyone who asked.
News reports for days after would spotlight the results of the largesse of the tile tithing. Under a bridge, a grungy campsite might be festooned with sprightly design in earthtones. A square of ten feet to a side set out under a bridge. A trail through the hills would have a pattern of these decorative blocks in a clearing.
After a time, everyone forgot about the tailings in the hills, and the plush plutocrats were even able to go back to their mining with complete impunity.
