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April 22, 2017

We’ve all heard the warnings: “Watch your carbon footprint!” “Don’t dump oil in the Gulf!” “Hold this polar bear while I take a picture of my crying Native American uncle!” - This Earth Day, these are Just the Tips for “going green”.

We’ve all heard the warnings: “Watch your carbon footprint!” “Don’t dump oil in the Gulf!” “Hold this polar bear while I take a picture of my crying Native American uncle!” Well pardon my French but, ce une charge de merde. And sure. I’ll concede that the very vessel we fly through the deep void of space on, our only life raft in a vast sea of silence, the representation of everything we ever were or ever will be, is decaying from the outside in. And I’ll also concede I had a point when I began that last sentence and forgot what it was due to abject horror. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters now is that if we all pull together, and more importantly follow my advice, we can turn things around. This Earth Day, these are Just the Tips for “going green”.

1. Chain yourself to the nearest tree and explain to everybody who passes that you aren’t going anywhere until this tree can vote.

2. “Going green” is a double entendre that implies we all need to be ready to have sex with an alien so it will share it’s planet with us. Take one for the team. You never know, you might like it. You know what they say; once you go green you never come clean.

3. For every pile of leaves you rake up and put in a bag, the earth gets one bag of leaves raked up and put in a bag.

4. Household products like drain cleaner and Nyquil are harmful to the environment and give you a really mellow buzz if you huff one and drink the other at the same time man.

5. Ask a co-worker if they “wanna car pool?” If they answer yes, go out to the parking lot at lunch and flood the inside of their vehicle.

6. It’s important to check your electric meter readings often but a lot of people are turned off by how mundane and tedious the chore can seem. Shake things up a bit. When your family goes to bed, violently thrust awake and flare your nostrils like a snake. Look to your left slowly and with great menace. Is your wife asleep? Good… good… It’s only a matter of time now. Grin. Rise from your slumber chamber and walk to the window. The moonlight reflects on your naked buttocks through the great glass wall. Crush the desire to howl. Not now. You’ll wake her. You’ll wake the wife woman. The one you share the slumber chamber with. Lay on the ground and slither into the hall. Slither past the child chambers. Where the miniature ones slumber. The ones who stole your biology. Close your eyes and find your way exclusively by licking the ground in front of you. Start murmuring to yourself: “My contact. My contact. Has anybody seen my contact? Perhaps I left it in the slumber chamber.” You don’t wear contacts but this way if anyone catches you slithering naked through your own home you’ll have an alibi as to why. When you eventually get outside, check all of your neighbors’ meters first. Peer into their horrible windows. Peer through their glass walls into their slumber chambers. Check their meters. Write their meter numbers on their glass walls. Be a good neighbor man to the slumberers. From the outside scrawl their meter reading on the window in chalk. The horrible sound of the chalk on the glass walls hurts you. You howl. The slumberers rise as you peer at them, naked, so you run. You run to your meter. You read it. Now leave the slumbering village. Leave your cul-de-sac of glass walls and chambers. You have no place there anymore. You have higher understanding. You know the numbers. The meter reading. You know everyone’s secret meter numbers. You must leave. Into the dark. Then suddenly. You slumber. You awake the next day next to the wife one. The one that shares your slumber chamber. The miniature ones rush to your side with breakfast in bed. The tinier miniature one, the boy one who resembles you, the one who prefers to shriek instead of slumbering, asks you what’s on your chest. It is a tattoo. It is the numbers. The sacred numbers. You have your meter reading. You kiss the miniature one who thieved your biology on the forehead. You did it. Now was that so bad?

7. Conserve water by having your whole family share a pool rather than owning one for every member of the family.

8. Anarchy in the streets.

9. “Happy Earth Day? More like Hippy Earth Day…” a biker is mumbling in a bar somewhere right now and also all the time.

10. Buy a brand new Prius from your nearest Honda dealership. That same day purchase a Hummer. Chain the Hummer to the Prius and drive both cars to a funeral home. Steal a hearse. Weld the hearse to the top of the Prius. Write the word “Earth” on the hummer. Write the word “Neptune” on the hearse. Write the word “god” on the Prius. Drive around town in a clown costume playing Seal’s “Kiss from a rose” as loudly as possible, crying for all to see.