Food and Love In the Time of Corporatocracy
By Heather Callaghan, Editor
Trapped in a food desert, deep in the South, there’s a depressing burger joint pretending to be a a retro “Drive-In” blast from the past. It is in fact a bleak vision into a corporate Idiocracy. A corporatocracy for the masses.
In this monochromatic human corral, the underpaid workers miserably slop cold burgers and burnt fries onto cafeteria trays as they shout “958!” “959!” into the P.A. system. Bright lights hang down over uneven tables and quick tempoed music goes “duh! duh! duh!” as a repellent for migraine sufferers. But really it’s an unconscious command to hurry! hurry! hurry! Shove that dry burger down the gullet even though it was a frozen coin tossed on an oil-slicked grill just seconds ago.
A woman brings her last, shriveled french fries to her mouth as they bleed grease down her fingers where she pinched them. She barely wipes them off before smearing them on her iPad like a preschooler fingerpainting.
Eight TVs flash and blare with sexual overtones to sell more toxic junk like soda, cologne and more “convenience” food to sleepy eyed patrons, mouths agape before they sway painfully back to their cars. It’s obvious that fast food is not just the occasional treat for them. When they drive home they’ll be besieged by ugly billboards and obnoxious radio ads to repeat the same eating ritual with promises of eternal pleasure.
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Next door, the parking lot of an Indian buffet is empty. The roasted, hearty vegetables there are savory, spiced in superfoods and sauteed in non-GMO oils, but people fear things that are different (even though the prices are the same and the buffet is bottomless!).
A block away there is a massive healthcare campus to scoop up the people who took the well-worn path of little daily choices that led them to a sterile bed, hooked up to wires and tubes…
This scene is a shepherd’s dream. The wet dream of CEOs and elites. That you would turn your will over to the Siren’s call and surrender your consciousness to mindless eating and temporary gratification. Forget your woes with the same high-energy pellets scattered before frenetic laboratory rats.
Our stoic, demanding modern world wants you to believe that everyone is selfish – that they love themselves too much.
I’m here to tell you that this is the Biggest Lie. A falsehood that is as far from the truth as the end of the universe is from your monitor screen.
Rest your souls today. The truth is, we don’t love ourselves enough. I mean the glowing, oatmeal kind of love that is evidenced by true, self-care.
For if we did really cherish ourselves in this short stint we have on planet Earth, there’s no way in hell we’d eat from the New World Order’s trough. We’d forego the GMO slop and feed our brains. We’d spit the elites’ chicken feed back in their faces and turn over their cafeteria tables.
We’d fall back lovingly into the real harvest of our ancestors. The kind of food you don’t fear overeating because real food doesn’t light up your brain’s reward center like a casino, or override your will and sense of self-preservation.
The idea of eating the food-like products of the One-World Corporatocracy would be as repugnant as drinking a glass full of bleach, if we really loved ourselves in the healthiest way.
Orwell said tyranny is a boot stamping on a human face forever. It’s also like a milk machine that siphons off your soul, starting with your body.
You hold the keys to your body, don’t give them away.
If you’re out of love for yourself, just remember that someone loved you enough to pen this letter today….from a hospital. A place where I watched people with heavy hearts trudge by. Women with surgical scars on both knees, stony hopeless faces and swollen bodies swaying unsteadily over buckling, dragging legs.
What is the first step to loving yourself?
You’ve got to get f*cking pissed.
Like you never have before.
Any good change starts with getting fed up. Getting so sick of it all you could scream…
Letting your anger finally have its go’damned say instead of burying it with fried sugar.
I want you to stick your middle fingers up right now and say F*CK MONSANTO!
F*ck the new world order and its gangrenous, soylent hog slop!
You want to see your grandkids and their kids – you want to love them through this Ride of Life.
Every choice matters – they don’t want you to fade from the Earth decades too soon.
And that’s what you live for in the time of Corporatocracy…
(Part 2 landing in your inbox soon!)
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