I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. — Malcom X. I am a communist. Why are you here. I ask that question a lot because I want to know the answer to it. I write the answers down. I doubt I will use those answers for anything. I have thousands of them. Our reasons for Being Here almost never mentioned – the end. Renders any of the ideas being expressed, mute. And generic. And “You are not being helpful at this stressful time.” Smiley face. How Americans want to die has no relationship to how Americans die. How we want our children’s children to be the chorus behind us as they softly sing religious hymns from How Great Thou Art. I have to be careful of what I say here. The Gatekeepers are ready to pounce. It is not civil to die. It is not civil to say Gatekeepers. Death in America is infused with all kinds of rules that defend the economic idea that the state of being dead is the boogeyman. Act Up is their biggest nightmare. Crimes of Bad Words. People moved to Baltimore. Act Up was ready to put corpses on Institutional steps. Then, the Government started getting serious. I have no idea why, but dead bodies at the Commerce Department sidewalk was not good news. It would attract attention. I voted for this body business. I had been to over a hundred funerals. I do not know how To Be. Not then. Not now. I went to my dying Grandmother’s nursing home. Just naked bodies lined up like meat on stretchers, and all of these people were lucid, and totally naked and not even a blanket among them. No masks. But mine. I am a communist.