The planet is melting, the rich are fornicating with children, and the zombies just don't notice. As a plane flies into a mountain everyone on the plane is comfortable, warm, and enjoying their book. This is America. I am not in pain, I have plenty to eat, so why do you talk to me about tomorrow? Nothing changes, on it goes. The last time the country actually had enough cold hungry people to awaken was the depression. People noticed the rich stole the cheese. Slowly the rich got the cheese back, but until we are cold, hungry, and our cable TV is taken away we just don't care.
The wall is out there it is just a matter of time until we hit it. The gauge will go to empty as those following behind us move into the future.
It is a gloomy day here in the Dakotas. So why not some downbeat news. The Kadizzles went to the big house last night. The master put on a feed for the slaves. The slaves were all very grateful. It is the master who gives us jobs, and we owe him a lot. We were back in the homeland minding our own business when the master's gang showed up and promised us a better life picking cotton and planting rice. After we raise the crops it sure is nice of the old master to give us some to eat. Of course the master gives us a little better houses than the huts we used to have, but still not sure this was a good trade. Apparently God wanted it this way. The master lets us go to church and assures us his God meant us to do all the work and for him to have all the goodies. The master said if we were good and worked hard some day we could have our own slaves and a nice mansion. It sounds like the deal the Mormons offered us. If we give them ten percent when we die we can be God of our own planet. I want to be a Mormon, picking cotton is getting old.
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