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And here it is, the corresponding fragment from the Green Eyes:
Chapter 32: The humble worm C. Elegans
"It’s Obama’s fault," he says, “he’s the govment. The govment is the problem.”
"You're a patriot, right," I say.
Don't go there John, you are getting argumentative, that's not the idea. But he’s a patriot, sure, you bet, his outfit, it's even called Tea Party Patriots, but hey, Holt, his pal, who was tasked to print the stuff, forgot the 'patriots' in a last-minute effort. "You're supporting the troops, right," I ask. He nods solemnly (“You bet.”)
From premises to conclusion, how do we do this? Don't John, don't do it. "You know, your troops are also part of the government," I say.
He possibly didn’t hear me, but contributes a few utterances just to maintain mammal bonding ('What do you know,' 'Listen to me,' 'You moron'). "Would you spell moron with an 'a' or with an 'o'?" I ask (0 points). "Your Medicaid," I say, "that's also the govment"—ain’t, ain’t, what do you know, keep the govment out of my Medicaid.
You painted yourself into a corner, John, as usual. How to get out of this, how to move forward? Well, we’re lucky, we don’t have to do anything, father gets up as if he has been preparing for this (we’re both standing now), and goes:
“Call this a govment! why, just look at it and see what it's like. Just as that man has got a few cents in his pockets, and they start raisin taxes. They call that govment! A man can't get his rights in a govment like this. Sometimes I've a mighty notion to just leave the country for good and all. Yes, and I told 'em so; I told that muslim in his face, by email. Says I, for two cents I'd leave the blamed country and never come a-near it agin. Oh, yes, this is a wonderful govment, wonderful. Why, looky here. There was a nigger there from Ohio -- a mulatter, most as white as a white man. He had the whitest shirt on you ever see, too, and the shiniest hat; and there ain't a man in that neighborhood that's got as fine clothes as what he had; and he had a gold watch. And what do you think? He's a p'fessor in a college, and talks all kinds of languages, and know everything. And that ain't the wust. And he votes? For who? Thinks I, what is the country a-coming to? It's 'lection day, and I'm just about to go and this guy crosses my path. I'll never vote agin. The country may rot for all me -- I'll never vote agin as long as I live. And to see the cool way of these niggers -- why, they wouldn't give me the road if don't shove them out o' the way. I says to the people, why ain't these niggers put up at auction and sold? -- that's what I want to know. And what do you reckon people say? Why, they say slavery has been abandoned. There, now -- that's a specimen. Here's a govment that calls itself a govment, and lets on to be a govment, and thinks it is a govment, and they give money to the thieving, white-shirted niggers, and … "
He sits down.
Let me think. The humble worm C. Elegans is the third-best researched organism on the planet, so we know it possesses exactly 302 neurons, which make up its brain. E. Coli, a bacteria, is even better researched, so we know it resides inside the mammal bowel and has no brain at all. I always thought that my father, who is considerably less-well-researched, would be located somewhere between the two, but how is it possible that such an organism learns, retains, and recalls an entire page from the book of Huckleberry Finn, including some editorial modifications? A tirade of Huck’s father, to wit, that template of alcohol-addled, redneck lucidity?