I think our lovely little island called capitalism is good, not great. We ate many handfuls of greatness. Steinbeck warned us with this, written in 1939, ‘We can’t depend on it. The bank- the monster has to have profits all the time. It can’t wait. It’ll die. No, taxes go on. When the monster stops growing, it dies. It can’t stay one size.’

Hmm it can’t wait. Sounds a lot like the east coast. I grew up on the east coast. Always in a hurry. Always a push. Always one person handling business as though it’s more important than the one next to them. It’s a matrix and they’ve failed the test. This push is bullshit. It’s not real. It never was.

This book I’m referring to is The Grapes of Wrath.