I am a communist. I do not see America like Americans. Antediluvian, obsolescent dystopian desert sea to seas in seas. It stinks. It’s a parking lot. Its buildings unassailable prisons. Her roads are rot. Angel Falls is closed. Ranger, Walt Disney, ordered the closure. Guns. Guns. Guns. Even in a world war, we never see this many guns, guns, guns. The Chinese are coming, the Chinese are coming.  The only people your Anti-Asian guns will kill, are yourselves, but then, you’ve already done that. Sneaking in guns. The writers who keep telling us to cling to hope, for Yosemite, for ourselves, are not the writers who are wondering what’s for lunch. Some, make a lot of money telling us to cling to hope. It’s rubbish. America is rubbish. Yosemite has had its back broken since 1946. Too many people, the kind Ross Douthat thinks we need more of, more of, more of, it’s never enough. Park Rangers direct traffic. What animal would live with this. Dead animals. Is that uncivil, to say dead animals, a stab in the dark, I have to ask because there are no more subjective Burger Kings to wrap up and package. UPS. Public input. Lobbyists. Big Lumber, Big Construction, Big Houses, Big Marketing, Big Merch. Banks. Thin coyotes. Moving slowly, ribs, dehydrated. In repose. Tourists in a mud flat. Kicking Around America on my dirt bike. Cruelty. Failure. Marketing. Rhetoric. Rendered ugly. Trashed. Toilets. The lost. We could charge more to get in. But we already have. Yosemite is a nightmare of it all.