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7 September 2017

Johnny Appleseed

by Andrew

The wind kicks up. The plains these are, here. But still, there could be more trees. That wind roars right across them, the plains. We can plant some trees, please?

A nice, little activity for me that would be. I'll walk. Right through Illinois I'll go, to either Missouri or Iowa, round there, across, to Kansas. That Kansas needs some trees desperately. The wind howls there, the truck wiggling 40 tons. I'll walk and plant some trees. Andrew Appleseed, that's right. To try to prevent this next dust bowl from happening,—the increasing occurrence of extreme weather—she's mad, mad, I'm telling you, the Earth—I'll plant the trees, do the leg work. I like to walk anyway, why not.

Certainly I don't expect to be paid. I laugh. You think the government will pay me? But I'll do it anyway. It will benefit me anyway in the end. I could sit outside and enjoy my tea better without all this damn wind, with some trees to block it. Winter would be less brutal too, the cruel, cold bitch. I'll plant the trees. I'll do it.

That damn government though, watch. The trees will all grow for about 20 years. Nice and big they'll get. The wind is gentler. But that's opportunity there, those big trees. This is capitalism, what you thought. And that damn government will come through and chop down all the trees I planted, to make some dollars for itself.

But not these trees, no, government, no. These are Apollo's trees, for his cows. You'd do well to leave them be. I tell you. These are our trees. Go on and get.


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