Please Recycle

I know this is gonna’ come as a shock to a lot of you readers, but I don’t recycle, at least not if I can help it. I also don’t give a shit and I’m so sick of the “right receptacle” Nazis that I could fucking puke, not to offend any of you real Nazis out there.

Truth be known, I’d prefer that this article actually ran in a physical publication every day, just for the satisfaction of knowing I was an accomplice to the killing of trees, though I’d surely plant new seeds to blossom in place of the old…Kumbaya, child.

Keep dolphins out of the goddamned tuna nets, save the spotted owl and have 6-different canisters just to get the garbage out of your own home, but leave mine the fuck alone.

I’ve got one giant, lidded trashcan on wheels that transports my Styrofoam, plastic, aluminum AND garbage from my home to the back of that beautiful, grinding hauler every Monday, thank you…and I may even camouflage an empty paint can or old computer monitor in there from time to time too, which really makes me smile.

Sure, the city provides me with a free, open-air bin to separate my paper and plastic into and I let the rest of the family humor themselves with that useless piece of shit. You see, paper and plastic are fucking LIGHTWEIGHT and tend to blow all over my yard and street before they can properly be disposed of while sitting out at the end of the driveway all day.

Apparently those guys they hire to haul that shit away aren’t as goddamned concerned about where it ends up as the industry they work for, because you won’t catch them retrieving what has exited that cute little, green box with that stupid fucking logo on it.

You know what that revolving arrow logo says to me? It says I throw my six-pack plastic in the trashcan (THE HUMANITY!), it wraps around the neck of some filthy fucking, landfill-diving bird and maybe his nasty ass don’t shit on my windshield one day.

Circle of life, got it? It’s beautiful really – even if Elton John isn’t singing about it on some goddamned Disney soundtrack.

What the rest of my family doesn’t know is that every Monday, before I roll that glorious garbage can to the curb, I first dump the contents of that stupid bin into it. It’s a win-win. My girls think they’re helping the environment and I don’t have to take that thing out the next morning while also picking up my shit that’s been blown over into the neighbor’s yard.

You know how embarrassing it is to get busted fetching windblown, dated issues of “Barely Legal Sluts” from the grass, as the guy next door’s wife is letting the dog out while carrying their newborn, simply because those sticky pages are made of paper and can’t possibly be put in with the “regular” trash?

Well fuck that. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d burn a pile of tires in the backyard every weekend, while spraying aerosols in the air and roasting baby seals on fucking spits.

Even if Al Gore was right about this “Global Warming” bullshit, instead of just getting rich off of the continuation of its’ farce, it’s not my fucking problem.

What was my problem was the shit that my father and grandfather left me and – guess what – I’ve been regulated into doing something about that ever since.

You think that they came back from Vietnam, Korea and World War II worried about what their unfiltered cigarettes and emission-lacking hotrods were doing to the precious environment or, furthermore, what the fuck their kids would think about it?

Hell no…and frankly, neither do I. These newer generations are being handed enough in this pussy-ass world we now sashay around in, let them deal with the consequences of my actions, as horrible as my throwing a can in a goddamned trash barrel is.

I heard about “acid rain” when I was a kid and have yet to have my skin burned off by Jesus’ caustic tears. Ice caps melting, sea levels rising, hotter temperatures across the globe. Keep feeding me your scary bullshit and I’ll keep answering with the fact that my 4-year old just practiced T-ball in the fucking snow and 20-degree wind chill this past weekend…in March…despite what that lying goddamned groundhog said.

I dealt with the cigarette and exhaust smog my ancestors left, along with asbestos and lead fucking paint, and now my kids can figure out what to do with sea lions drowning in plastic wrap and how to rid the world of Justin Bieber and fucking Lady Gaga music…but leave me the hell alone.

Paper or plastic…BOTH – and it’s all going straight in the garbage…KMFP-out!

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