The fumes aren’t just fouling up the sunrise—they are totally fucking it up. We can no longer sit and watch wistfully. Unless you are lucky you are gonna get drowned on dry land in some kind of diluvian hell, or you are gonna be baked alive in the following heatwave. We need to stand and fight. We have to be prepared to die for what we think is right or we are all gonna be dispatched to that hell below in the midst of some really fucking nasty shit hitting the fans. We might have to do the twenty years straight for just walking down Main Street telling it how it is, so maybe you might as well learn to fight. Praying underneath the rain is futile desperation: that ship sailed long ago.
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