Garbage Shade of Pail

For Christmas, one of Guido’s conspirators friends gave her a compost box.  That’s right, one of those green-friendly devices that grows worm shit you’re supposed to spread around the garden to save the earth from the BPs (slogan: All’s “Well”) of the world.

Here’s how this works.  Instead of stuffing garbage into your disposal, you chuck it into this lidded aluminum can you keep on your kitchen counter, which you then dump into the compost system for the worms to devour and shit nutrients for your front lawn.

I have a problem with all of this.  I remember growing up in a house that had paper sacks on the sink for garbage, to be separated from the trash.  That sack – usually a small, double-bagged jobby – would stink like, well, garbage, and soak through if you (me) didn’t  run it down the steps timely and toss it into the garbage can – a separate container from the trash can – for pick-up.  Every house had both trash cans and garbage cans.  Different trucks came by to pick each up.  No co-mingling—that violated union policies – even though it all ended up dumped raw into the Delaware River anyway, the region’s source of drinking water.  Which explains the Philadelphia personality and the Jersey attitude.

So to me, this compost business and its aluminum can is a throw-back to unhappier times.  Guido tells me that just about anything I would have pushed into the garbage disposal, a device I offer thanks to god for every Sabbath – should be tossed in the can instead.

We’re going backwards.

Tonight I’m making our usual dinner, a salad.  “What about the garlic paper?” I ask her.  “How about the seeds and roughage off this green pepper?”

“In the pail!” she hollers in from the other room where she’s mixing her potients.  “Everything but meat and blood.”

“Aaaaaugh!” I scream.  “I cut off my finger tip!  It’s bleeding like hell!  Into the pail?”

“Your finger?  What was it doing outside your ass? Put it down the disposal.  It’s not compost – you’ll spoil it.”  *Exasperated sigh*  “Can’t you get anything right?

Right.  Wouldn’t wanna harm worms with my flesh and blood.  Although be sure the squirmy little fux will be there for my burial.

Can we really save the earth one suppurating corn cob and squash rind at a time?  I dunno.  Like any  good German, I just follow orders and hope to get laid.  If using a retro-aluminum pail instead of this hi-tech, sharp-toothed garbage disposal makes Guido happy, who am I to deny her?  Next Christmas maybe I’ll get her some garbage bag liners.  I know some people, I’ll get a good price.

What about a vegan’s used toilet paper?

Now there’s a thought not worth thinking.  Not if I wanna get laid.  And I do.  Who doesn’t?

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5 Responses to Garbage Shade of Pail

  1. Barbara Ganousch says:

    A perfect add-on for any kitchen — organic landfill in a pail. Have a great time.

  2. Old Timer says:

    I forgot about the trash can vs the garbage can business. It means back then, we already had some primitive notion of separating waste, although not necessarily for recycling purposes. I wonder if there was a different pay scale for trash men vs garbage men, and if one was a promotion from the other.

  3. Lu Senz says:

    Yo: on the subject of suppurating garbage, your Eagles sure played like it last night. How do they not take that game seriously and play that poorly? There goes their bye week.

    I like them, but they’re not of great caliber yet. They’re waltzing in on the strength of Vick’s cinderella season, and a real team like the Patriots and Falcons will whip their feathered asses.

  4. Miami Harold says:

    At the end last year,
    I put all my unfullfilled hopes and dreams in my compost box.
    It took two trips. There were many,
    And those were just the ones I had desperately retained.
    The following spring, when the worms had done to them in physical life
    What I had done to them in spirit (and they to me),
    I emptied them out across the flower beds
    beneath my bedroom and kitchen windows.
    No flowers bloomed this year in either place,
    and I suffered from fitful nights with bad dreams, nightmares, cramps….
    Although the last may be from food poisoning. Same cause.

    Your wife is wise to caution your selection of items to compost.
    Discard your hopes and dreams at your peril;
    They serve you better living even faintly, ever possible.

    Happy New Year.

    • Squathole says:

      Thanks, Harold, not just for the sound advice and new years wishes, but for the amazing posts with which you periodically bless this blog. I don’t know anybody else who posts poetry, and I’m truly honored to host the blog you chose for yours. Happy New Year.

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