You can thank me later. In fact you’ll have to because you’re not even born yet.
But I certainly can’t wait for your bleary huge eyes to adjust to the world that you’ve just been thrust into because you’re gonna love what I’ve done to the place.
It’s no secret that I compost. I brag about it at parties and my neighbors, when they wake up early enough, can see me and my chocolate lab ‘Mocha’ both doing our business on their lawn.

Compost is Earth soup and for me it’s always the du jour. I serve it up all over Mother Nature’s soup kitchen. Squirrels seem to enjoy the natural cotton of my old Q-Tips and I don’t know what animal took them, but all the used up porn magazines that I left by the middle school are gone. You can think of me as an Ec0-Warrior. You can think of me that way as I bury lost house cats by the dozen in my backyard.

Mulch much? Mucho!
I really enjoy collecting compostable items from around the office. I grab the coffee grinds from the office kitchen and though I’ve asked Sherry to scrape the coffee stains from her teeth, she declines because she probably hasn’t watched the Captain Planet youtubes clips I emailed her.

When you become my age, the year will be 2067 and you’ll be fighting cyborgs for the future of the Earth. It will be crucial that you know that I’ve buried several cans of baked beans and 9 millimeter ammunition in my compost bin.
If I’m not alive to thank, do the next best thing will you? Cremate my remains so that the cyborgs can’t harvest my DNA to clone me into an automaton assassin. Thanks.