Dinners With Dead Gangsters — A Class War Notebook
Meanwhile in another house that capitalism built, the low-ceilinged “49er Bar” at the El Rancho Hotel in Gallup, New Mexico, local native dark-eyed women from the reservation gossip over sips of massive drinks at tables next to back-lit stained glass. The juke spins saccharine country in a loamy whisper while a stage, tidy and too well-lit for the rest of the place, bears a sign indicating that karaoke was just last evening. Absolutely nothing to do here but drink and be.
Empires collapse, fortunes evaporate, and stocks nosedive into hell—but a deep sleep, a clean shit, and a laugh that shakes your skeleton remain the closest thing humanity has to real wealth.