I’m better now. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Man. I get crazy when that shit starts turning my stomach into poison. I’ll cry and cry. Just thinking about a flour tortilla or a biscuit is like the way people think about little brown glass bottles with a skull and crossbones on them. I see people in restaurants or such places, eating bread or granola bars or whatnot. And I wanna leap over a table like 007 and be like, “NO, THAT’S POISON. I JUST SAVED YOU. YOU ALMOST GOT CONSTIPATED FOR A WEEK. BUT I SAVED YOU.” Then I remember it’s probably okay for them. Or something. Most of it seems fundamentally unhealthy anyway, but even the good grains make me feel that way. Like looking at a wolf and going, “Here, doggie-doggie-doggie… Eh, I dunno about this. Something bad is looming. Right over the spot where my right hipbone is. It’s looming like a balloon full of poisonous gases from Venus or something. The Venusian wolves brought that shit here. They said it’s 100% whole grain, but actually it’s 100% poison.” You really can train your mind to believe anything. If you tell it that your beloved saltines aren’t okay anymore, it’ll believe you. Just say, look, our friend stomach said no more. I know you’ve never been acquainted with stomach, but he is really important. He’s like you, actually. A lot like you. You’re connected more than you think. So trust me when I say to trust stomach. No saltines. Those saltines will sit outside the window staring at you with big salty eyes, crying big salty tears because they miss you and wanna hang out in a plastic sleeve in your nightstand drawer. But your brain will go to the window and look at the saltines and emphatically shake its head and mouth the word, “NO.” And the saltines will walk away, defeated. Almost like they never existed at all. When I go to the store and I see the place where the crackers used to sit, it’s like they’re not even there. They’re just ghosts of old friends that turned against you for the last time. You found out they were the mole. You trusted them and they betrayed you. They’re dead to you now.
"Family owned and operated" gives me not the feeling of comfort or confidence I think it’s intended to. I don’t think it would be more wholesome or that they would be less likely to take me to the cleanaz. Just because you’re a family and not an individual. Heck. Your whole family might be a bunch of assholes. You’re looking out for yourselves and your business. It’s your family’s baby. You might have sunk your 401k into it. It’s all you’ve got and you’ll do anything to keep it together, including taking me to the cleanaz. If it fails, it’s not like you can hit up your big brother who’s an anesthesiologist, cuz he works at the damn family business, too. Family owned. Like I give a hoot. There’s this billboard here in town with a personal injury lawyer’s two dogs on it with Christmas hats on their heads, and their names are under it. Like I’m supposed to think because they’re dog people, they have hearts. They’re attorneys. I’m sure they have a ton of Christmas hats and Christmas dogs and 15-foot Christmas trees in their bathrooms. What do I care. I’m broke. Everybody’s broke. No one can afford to care about anything like wholesomeness or even effectiveness of products and services. That’s another thing that bothers me about advertising. All they talk about is how good their shit is. What do I care if I can’t afford it? I can’t afford anything. Who can? We don’t care. Don’t waste your breath, we’re sure it’s good stuff, stop trying to convince us of that. It doesn’t matter to us unless we can afford it. And occasionally, perhaps most frustratingly, they throw in that it’s "affordable", too. How can anyone presume what’s affordable. Affordable to me is a $30 garment once a month, or a $90 piece of furniture off Craigslist once a year. I couldn’t afford to get my car detailed or a $299 rug or a life insurance policy. And someone who runs a cash register at a hardware store couldn’t afford to buy the skirts I do, or to order delivery sushi like I do. Maybe someone who can afford to upgrade their kitchen appliances can’t afford to add an in-ground pool in their backyard, or to buy their teenager the same kind of Lexus they have and they have to get a pre-owned one instead. Affordable is a meaningless word. Don’t even use it. I know they use it to avoid calling things "cheap", which suggests a lack of quality, but again, what position are we in to care about quality when we can’t afford what we know is better? Just tell me it’s good for people with dual income and no kids. Be like, this mop is good if you make less than $25,000 a year because it only costs $9.99 and you won’t have to replace the thing ever. It’s not got a lot of components that are meant for you to replenish. It’s just a mop. You got this. Or attorneys. They should say, "I can do everything in my power to get this off your record for $300. I know. Seriously. I’m not expensive. I’m not gonna be $800, then do nothing and not even get your court costs down. I’m good. I gotchu." Just be real. Stop acting like anybody has any money. Just say, this is not that much money. Or, "Anyone who makes less than $40,000 a year, just change the channel or leave the room now ‘cause some fancy shit’s coming and your ass can’t afford it."