Tate: Dear God, thank you for this salty pig meat we are about to eat, along with the rest of the indigestible swill. And thank you for our new charade of a family. My father ran away when I was only six. If I’d have known any better, I would have joined him. And, also, because she’s been trying to get back into this house ever since she lost it, Lord, a big thank you for blinding the cocksucker that’s doing my mother, so that he can’t see what everybody knows. She doesn’t really love him.