We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of d**h. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers. The bomb opens like a shoebox. And the child? The child is certainly not yawning. And the woman? The woman is bathing her heart. It has been torn out of her and as a last act she is rinsing it off in the river. This is the d**h market. America, where are your credentials?