November 8, 2007

I don’t know about all this green stuff. I’m more of an indigo man myself. I will tell you this, though: I’m all about recycling. When I lived up in Maine for three years, recycling was my main job and the lessons that I’ve learned have stuck with me ever since. Number one lesson: cans are not just cans. They’re nickels, in can form. You wouldn’t throw away a nickel, would you? Not a chance. So why do people throw away cans? I have no idea. What I do know is that I supported myself for a long time on those cans and I might even say that I owe my life to them. If I wasn’t collecting cans, I can only imagine what I would have been collecting. Probably infectious diseases.


Bottles and cans aren’t just free money for the opportunistic among us. They also work as a great security system. When I go to sleep at night, no matter where I am, I spread a circle of crushed cans and empty bottles around me. That way, if anybody tries to mess with me or my stuff, I’ll hear those bastards coming. I also use thumbtacks if I can afford them.


As far as I’m concerned, recycling starts with underpants.


A few years back, I bought myself a tree in Israel. I got a certificate and everything to prove it. When I got kicked out of the halfway house a while ago, I decided I wanted to live in my Israeli tree. Build a tree house or something. So I made some calls and guess what I found out? It’s a total scam! They make it seem like you own the tree when you buy it, but when you actually want to claim your tree, they say it was just a donation. I was on the phone with those tree people for eight hours arguing about who actually owns that stupid tree. I’m no lawyer, but I’m pretty sure that a certificate is a legally binding document. I’ll see those tree huggers/hoarders in court.