This is for the fine industrious homeless men who come to collect my recycling. I love the fact that Oregon has a deposit on select cans and bottles. I also love the fact that if I'm too lazy to return them, you relieve me of this burden in your quest for survival. However, please have the courtesy to not do it at 12:30 at night. Here I sit at 1 am, awake and having to work at 6 am, because you decided to claw through my recycling, make a ton of racket, freak my dogs out, and wake me up. I jump out of bed and get my bat, thinking someone's trying to break in, and lo and behold there you are across the street, counting my cans. Now I have to worry about whether I'll wake up and make it to work on time. Maybe I'll lose my job, maybe I won't make rent, maybe I'll get kicked out of my house! Now, with no more cans at my place, and me as competition on the canning circuit, you're screwed. I will wreak havoc on your canning world. Getting there earlier, fighting you when I see you in my canning territory, drinking more malt liquor than you, and killing for cans. Think about it. You don't want me out there with you.—Anonymous