Seventy-five years from now, they’ll be watching sepia-toned, Ken Burns style documentaries about The Great Depression of the early 21st century.

Grapes of Wrathy novels will be written by the city stoop and front porch grandchildren of the impoverished.

There will be photo essays of natural and man-made disasters, criminals, kings, and war.

They’ll blame the rising technological industry, polluters, presidents, mining operations, crooked corporations, and oil tycoons for the downfall of American society.

It will be known as the time in which the great drought began, before the great heat, and the second coming of the dust bowl.

There will be talk of how it influenced the art of the time, how the literature and culture were shaded as a result. They will say we were willing to do anything to be heard amidst the deluge, anything to assert that we were still alive.