To the person working the recycling of plastic bottles,

     You may be wondering why you receive bottles without tops on them. Mostly water bottles (poland springs) sometimes gatorade bottles (lemon-lime, fruit punch); You’re their, working, recycling—in the thick of it. Maybe you’re suspended ten stories up—a mountain sized recycling bag on your left, a mountain sized recycling bag on your right. To the left go paper, to the right go plastic. Tossing, tossing—You’re on a roll! And Bam. Where is the top to this bottle? You stop recycling. It needs the top. How can someone not know this, you think as you look toward the sky—Who doesn’t know this! Who!


I’m a single father with a three year old who likes the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and Sidney Bechet. I play crazy eights with my sometimes girlfriend and I say sometimes cause I just called myself single and the fact remains; sometimes she is my girlfriend and guess what—sometimes she’s not. Not that the choice is completely up to her (though she does hold most of the cards), and anyway, (we’re veering off topic)—this is not about me; it’s about you. It’s about you—person working the recycling of plastic bottles. It’s about you, not able to complete your job as efficiently as you should, because someone has taken the top off a bottle of Poland Spring.

You may think I have no idea what I’m talking about. How can I possibly know if having a cap on a bottle slows you down or not—but you’re wrong. You’re very wrong. You see, I’m a thinker. And I’m thinking (on an average); the recycling of a water bottle takes you two seconds. You get the bottle. You throw it to the right. In the mountain sized bag which I will hereto refer as the ‘scepter.’ The scepter takes the bottle (I don’t really understand the in’s and out’s of the recycling business, so to speak); the bottle is ensnared by the gadget (I don’t know the names of the machines, so to speak); the gadget makes a VRRRT! indicating the whatchamacallit needs more information…


I don’t know what you are doing with my plastic bottles or tupperware. I do know I get my tupperware from my ex, when she sends me my son (and his lunch box), and I forget to send them back and it’s, ‘Where’s my tupperware? Where is my tupper-ware? I keep giving you tupperware and it’s gone!’ ‘I don’t know where it is.’ ‘Well I gave it to you?’ ‘I didn’t see it.’ ‘I put it in his lunch box. He has it when he goes to school.’ ‘Maybe he threw it out.’

But maybe I threw it out. Or, more realistically, I did throw it out, and the point is I don’t know where it goes or what those thingamajig’s want or do—other than turn those products into reusable items… that you…. will sell to me…. again (rip me off once for the price of bottled water, then make me give it back to you so you can rip me off a second time?? Punk!).


As I am not an expert and realize I don’t know what I’m talking about (I’m lost!). It takes you two seconds to recycle a used water bottle, but because the cap isn’t on—you can’t throw it directly into the machine. So you have to wait till you get to the bottom of that Mt. Olympus-sized landfill, till you finally find the tops, and you bend your old bones over showing the crack of your ass to the Lord Jesus Christ who made you, and he’s thinking, ‘What the fu*k did I do to deserve this—Exercise! [him telling you] Exercise!’ Yes, so you bend your old bones and think who is displcacing these caps? Who is throwing away the bottle without tops? Who—when finishing the bottle—doesn’t screw the cap back on, recycling them both together and more importantly


I chew the cap. I chew the cap. I chew the cap—for a couple of minutes. I throw the bottle away in the garbage. I chew the cap. I pass three more garbages and then I throw away the cap.

I’m sorry, if this inconvenience’s you in any way.

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