This place is harder, than where we were before. Darn near anything will grow, here. A blessed land, we took, from those bashful Indios, wherever they went. Plenty of rain. A generous sun.
Money grows on trees here.
Orchardsful of it. We got our wish. The last time, the only time, anyone tried to mess up American soil that Chrysanthemum Emperor, about fifty years ago we beat him, bad. Bombed him flat. Burned his toiling orang, his carabao, his wife and his kids.