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.