My dad worked on a farm when he was my age. My grandpa grew up on a farm, and worked hard. Twelve hours a day during the summer, and six hours a day the rest of the year. Now I work on a farm, and I work hard, but only for a dying legacy. More and more farmland is chopped up and sold into suburbia.

Farmer Jones just sold five hundred acres of prime farmland for a few million dollars, but only because there’s no other way to stay afloat in this business. Can’t afford to live on the farm anymore, because no one can compete with corporate farms half or a quarter the size, with twice the output.

Us workers can’t afford to compete with robots, who will work only for electricity and oil. Someone is paid fifteen dollars an hour to maintain the machines, but one man could watch a hundred of those things.

Us workers can’t compete with cheaper human labor found elsewhere, because now we can’t afford to pay for our own houses, and we can’t afford to have families. Either can the other workers, but it’s out of our hands.

Our farms can’t survive and are dying, but it’s out of our hands. Farmland will make way for mini-malls, homes, and more roads. We can’t afford to shop at these malls, live in these homes, and we can’t afford to drive on these roads, because capitalism has paved them in gold.

One man wants to run the whole show, own all the farms, and his name is Greed.