I seek something beyond this whole system of mercantilism, financial gain, acquisition, googahs, the Joneses, appearances, and status symbols. I’m tired of the Protestant fucking work ethic, the stupid American hustle!

This is the Jack Tar’s lament as he cowers beneath the bootheels of his betters’ merciless whims and callous indifference. On my best days, I can only aspire to scuttle beneath the Master’s table in hopes of procuring a few crumbs for my sustenance.

This is a dreaded predicament. Dead weight. It’s like that Twilight Zone Episode with Burgess Meredith - Obsolete Man. It’s a death sentence, but without the beautifully ironic comeuppance.

One world, alright. One Third World, indivisible, with slavery and injustice for all - North and South united in misery - one in material misery, the other having sold its soul, living in existential misery.