You know,

[crisper]

Sometimes, at the end of a day, as I look up at the shattered remains of the moon and smell the tangy metallic char coming off the hills, as I look out over the wastefires that dot the dry basin of the former Pacific as far as the eye can see, as I feel that vibrant tingle on my skin that only industrial rain can bring, I think back to the days of old, the days of our ancestors, and I wonder how anyone was able to live a single day under the terrible yoke of Nature.

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For consideration: seriously, did you know that all kinds of random crap actually *grew* up out of the *ground*?