The Top 40

I see this daily in the Giant WareHouse Store of Endless Quantity. Often some little old man or lady will come and squawk about not NEEDING the 12 count box of Super Large Muffins, something about 'living all alone' and 'can't eat that amount' and 'it'll go bad' or some such nonsense. I say, HEY, You bought a 60 dollar membership to this Giant WareHouse Store of Endless Quantity! I'm not even ALLOWED to sell you just ONE of anything!
But once, all the human planets were converging in the same checkout line. All of them were in electric shopping carts. All of them could have walked, but FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT, and they had all their GWHSOEQ items in the tiny basket. We are all like fatted cattle, ready for slaughter. Guess who's running the abattoirs? Muslims. That's right.

Whoa. Excellent. Chilling but excellent, Mother Eff.

I cry a lot these days, Gerard. I read an interesting commentary from Theodore Dalrymple via this link: http://www.newenglishreview.org/Theodore_Dalrymple/Houellebecq_and_Call/

"...the institution that best captures the nature of modern existence is the supermarket, in which people wander between stacked shelves making choices without discrimination or any real consequences, to the sound of banal but inescapable music. This music is like the leprous distilment that Claudius pours into the ear of Hamlet père as he sleeps in his garden once of an afternoon. The shoppers in the supermarket are not asleep, of course, but they are sleepwalking, or behaving as quasi-automata. At any rate, they are certainly not alert (most of them don’t even have a list of what they need, or think they need), and the drivelling music makes sure that they do not awake from their semi-slumber."

But working in these soul exchanges is damaging too. Everyday, I go in, hear the same music on the same loop. I pass by the people sorting out their goods before the store opens. I try to tell myself, Just smile at these people, because it may be the only decent contact with humanity they have all day. And all day, we see the effects of having one's every wish fullfilled: Screaming brats who can't bear the word NO, people who should be hauling behind them IVs, dripping insulin into their plaque-hardened veins.
This is the future people once only dreamed about. It's a nightmare. I work in the bakery. I bake frozen things, but we don't have flour. We don't have yeast. No butter. Can't believe it? NO BUTTER! Our baked goods are made in factories. I remind myself daily, of this Biblical prophecy of our imminent doom: Amos 8:11 Behold the days come, saith the Lord, and I will send forth a famine into the land: not a famine of bread, nor a thirst of water, but of hearing the word of the Lord.
Are we there, yet?

In a word mother, yes.