The

The I've got wheels of polished steel.

I've got tires that drag the road.

I've got seats that selflessly hold my friends and a truck that can carry the heaviest of loads.

I got a mine that can steer me to your house and a heart that can bring you red flowers.

My intentions are good and earnest and true, but under my hood is internal combustion power.

Satan is my motor.

Satan is my motor. Here, my motor per.

It's always been a favorite cake song of mine.

And lately I've been thinking about how truly evocative it is of just the condition of being a

liberal late capitalist American subject you if you grow up in the middle class if you grow up

blessed you know with with the fading beneficence of the post-war American economic boom that we're all

slowly whittling away if you get any glimpse of that any grab of that you get a chance

to be turned into a person who's better positioned than almost anyone in human

history to thrive to thrive have the ability with your hands to create a

destiny now of course this is all on the

backs of the massive exploitation of others. This is without saying. But within the narrow

sphere of the personal, you can feel like you have some control of the world because, you know,

you have access to capital, the lingua franca of the world, access to its markets, its

beneficence,

a introduction into a bourgeois social network that is embedded and that provides you with like a real identity,

that off, acts as a social capital that can make up for a deficit in actual access to capital,

...