They're just folks, Holy and Oly. You can tell by the overalls and baseball cap. And by the way they're completely unconcerned by and unimpressed with the kind of stuff those snooty innalekshuls are always yammering about. (Do they ever stop their yammering?)
All that swill about self-determination, autonomy, and the rest of it. Just a bunch of five-dollar words. If it doesn't put food on the table, Holy and Oly don't want to hear about it. All your theories and your perspectives and your isms. All due respect, you can chuck 'em all, perfesser.
These two are practical, you see. They've got their feet on the ground, thanks very much. Give 'em a plate of their grandmother's ribs and their grandfather's drumsticks and they're happy as any animals ever were. What's that? You say they're next? Well, of course they're next! Think they don't know that?
They've learned it's the simple things. Eating, getting eaten, and all that. That's all they need to make their own heaven on Earth.