I am a communist. I am a communist because I am intimate with poverty. How bad was it. The question isn’t how bad was it. The question is how bad is it now. We are still living in voodoo economics. I am not indolent. I am not a grifter. I am not lazy. I am not shiftless. I am not worthless. I have worked (hard) for sixty-three years. I am still working hard. When I hear rich republicans in Congress bemoan the welfare mother, I can only spit on the ground. After Hurricane Helene hit the Blue Ridge, the devastation was obvious. There was no FEMA. No government presence. No hospital. No cops. You could not leave for somewhere else because all roads were closed by debris. All you had was yourself. The most arrogant capitalists among us would take hand outs from the proletariat as we lent them our sweat. Our hands. Our chainsaws. Community works. Housing works. We worship together. We bring food. We arrive with trucks and experience. We clear the way. There were no markets to manipulate. There was no power. There were no gas stations. It took the US military four days before they could get to us. Today, the ugliness is all still here. The dead trees piled up on corners (only in the poor neighborhoods). Your sacred capitalism simply did not work. There was no place for it. There was no time for it. It was muscle or go home. Capitalism is immoral. Capitalism is demonic. Capitalism is inhuman. Capitalism is greed. What is wrong with you. Survive or die. Is a crippling sadness.