The Conquest of Bread Re-Dux

“The most important economy, the only reasonable one, is to make life pleasant for all, because the man who is satisfied with his life produces infinitely more than the man who curses his surroundings.”
― Pyotr Kropotkin, The Conquest of Bread

Wise skin perishes without qualms as the convenience of commercialism exposes too much ownership and this syncopated to capitalism’s encouragement of rage purchasing creates a need for job postings such as, Minimalism Expert and Tax Accountant (specializing in exploiting offsets conditioned through charitable donations).

Bread flourished under mass-production and this criteria inside the food timeline arranged consumers to discover messianic faces burned in the borders of their burnt dough. Voice of Heaven, no longer satisfied in torching bushes, found better lips seared on the white homage to Homunculus trivia. But unbeknownst to the public, bread faces were a marketing scheme devised by Edward Bernays’ cousin, Jeffrey Shittlenotpik. He began as an advertising agent for Hasbro toys and one fateful afternoon he was shuffling through pictures of faces etched in plastic and pondered, ‘manipulating children is easy. I want a more challenging audience.’ He discovered his challenge in the every-person. For as he placed his pictures down, he took a bite of his sandwich and having a molar rotted from plaque and shaped like a jagged boulder, he stabbed his tongue, dropped the sandwich on his desk and bled profusely. He tended to his wound but upon returning to the crime scene noticed what appeared to be a face, made of blood, in his bread. 

“EUREKA!” He shouted. 

Hallucinations occur daily, someone loses their keys and inspects their house looking for them, until it’s discovered they were in a place the person already pillaged, their brain didn’t expect to find them there, so it hid them from the quick glance and waited for the penultimate focus of frustration, to pull the tarp off the hallucination. 

Weeping Statue, Jesus’ face spread like jelly onto white bread and flashes of a shadowy figure lingering inside peripheral stares…

And we believe Optimus Prime, Superman and Jesus are really dead.

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