Here, in Appalachia, we’re too uneducated to be joyful. We do not live in America, and we are quite good at ignoring debilitation because it might mean us. We know decrepitude when we see it. It’s ordinary. School is decrepit. Media is creeping decrepitude. Law is decrepit. The coal mines, a spastic paralysis. Kids get $1.39 per meal a day on SNAP. Survive on that, and what crumbs. The TV shows we watch are ripe with tribalisms. Never speak out is one tribalism that works hard for a reality of us and them. That we are them makes no impression, here. Because obviously, we are not them, they’re evil, and we must rid ourselves against the pox. Who is the pox. No one knows , but they’re scary because Dad said so. The very term, homo sapiens, is French. The Great Lie now becomes the Great Comeback. And heeeerrrreeees, Johnny. It’s not funny because the laugh sign is not on. You walk in the mountain mud for three miles to get to the voter place. We do not read headlines because we do not read. The New York Times will not allow me to say that. The boot again. Nevertheless, it’s reality. Ross talks about recycling. Why would we recycle a political criminality more crooked that a barrel of fishhooks. The lists grow longer. Why recycle a system of neglect that might seem innocuous enough, but we know better. Public Policy has had its day. It pushes over here. It pounds over here. It starves you. It whips you to work harder. Marinate harder. Nothing changes. We are homo sapiens.