...Here I stand or sit, like yourself, surrounded by the cotton candy mist of torpor that veils the torments of those sacrificed upon the altar. Their blood is the grease that lubricates the gears and bearings of the Tilt a Whirl in the midnight amusement park of the nation that took too much and gave too little. I have been told we are all one but I cannot see the connection between them and me. I feel more kinship with the beasts of the field and less endangered by the beasts of the wild.

I know that I am supposed to love all with some kind of divine equanimity. I realize that I am required to move with an egalitarian awareness through the land of the Schmoos but some portion of me has not yet achieved to the liberation from passing judgment upon those who gave up their humanity for something that sticks in their teeth, tickles their privates and seeds their progeny as it devours their souls...

...Seek out the concentrations of light. Move away from the centers of darkness. I can think of no other advice. That rough beast is on the move.