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  • My small home town has become the Saudi Arabia of fracking. Mud money sucked through pipes like straws is replaced by benzene, toluene, formaldehyde—where before it was only pesticides that left the cancer. Strippers circle the pipes in dark bars with cheap beer, and men, because the work is hard and dirty and it’s men that come to fill the man camps – that’s what they’re called – Deadwood all over again – and they swarm desperate – seeking hope from recession – in this place where Sitting Bull surrendered, where the shards of dinosaur bones litter the hills and it’s their blood we eat, and Fort Peck was hope in the Great Depression, and really, it’s only the wind that wins.
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