get bored and floored an uproar in the grocery store they ran out of soymilk and kombucha and now the goddamn yuppies posing as middle age hippies are dancing in the aisles overturning buggies and screaming to damn the man damn the man damn the man that made this decision to hate this shopping convenience. we're still exploited but look at all the fucking choice we have....
ms. postrel tells us that the wealth of our nation is in diversity in the shopping lanes and she claims we are more free because we have the freedom of not just choice but the freedom of choices....these are just words to remind the rest of us that some people deserve to have their backs up against the wall
fifteen kinds of coffee eighteen brands of soap all easy on the skin all hard on the wallet but these aren't for the working class they've still got their decaying malls and their big box marts and we cut hearts in expensive cheese and bleed all over the dying animals, kept serenely in nature until their throats are slit to feed us...
because even if you do everything green and organic and natural and humanely you are still consuming you are still death incarnate and it's not a question of when it's how much you're willing to give up
dementia is a pension for the mention of the convention and who wins the nomination to take a chance to lead the nation straight down the goddamn rabbit hole but there is no wonderland there is only a deadened hand to play out in this last game of poker before they close down the halls and chop up the tables to use as kindling so keep your kin warm and remember that tribalism, despite the best efforts of the best minds of European descent, still thrives in some darkened corners.
i can't bare sequences of consequences as my mind winces when the menses mince words and churn out turds to curdle up to and wrap their languid lips on and taste what's inside that's not a rainbow that's the death throes of a dying empire this is not the age of founding it's the time to cast down and burn