PLEASE DON'T LITTER begs the sign on the rim of the garbage can. It is the final, desperate plea of a waste management system which finds itself at a loss for why someone would throw trash on the ground. A disposal apparatus which has lost all hope of threatening punishment or appealing to better human nature. The dying trash collection bureaucracy reaches out with a trembling, starved, and bloody hand and whispers a final, raspy request from its thirsty, chapped lips: please.
Strange, then, that they would put it in view only of those already poised to dispose of the refuse in a proper receptacle. You would have to willingly throw whatever trash you've brought to the bin on the ground instead of inside its ample cavity.
In fact, that's what you intend to do. You throw your Honey Bun wrapper on the steps of the church. Fuck the police.