When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will crackers realize that one cannot eat money.
That’s the spite I’m embracing at this point. When the world is boiling, and they lament to the skies? I’ll be one of the last few, using their last moisturized breaths to laugh in those settler’s faces. If we can’t have justice, if we can’t be properly recompensed for history? I’ll accept spite and revenge at this point.
🎶 A-V, A-L, A-N, C-H-E, that’s who we be 🎶
But no quippy bars aside I’ve been wondering why we don’t see harder eco-activists these days; now that things are visibly and noticeably getting worse.