The Man

So we’ve got the man,

the main drug pusher,

and he’s coming up with all this crazy shit,

like strawberry flavored cocaine.

I hate coke, I love strawberry flavoring, and hearing about this just makes me curious. But turning drugs into candy is just part of a master plan, and these drugs aren't good, they've got more chemical ingredients than chewing gum. The man hires a pyramid of salesmen, each more brainwashed and qualified than those below. The bottom of the pyramid, and I’m using the visualization of a pyramid shaped mind structure here, are the consumers. The consumers are themselves salespeople, for the man. Their boss is so far away from them, he might as well be god. But he, like an insidiously crafty father, knows everything about how you operate. He knows what you like. He knows what you hate. He knows if you’ve been good or bad, so be good for goodness sake. So you work for him. He gives you an allowance. You take this money and you buy food, you pay rent on a spot, you buy drugs and alcohol. You buy medication. You buy gas. He’s got to keep giving the workers near the top of the pyramid a lot of incentive to sell for him though, so those on the lower end are constantly bombarded with sales techniques, battle tested. This advertising creates more demand, and supply is thus increased equivocally. But he has so many kids. Billions. So he never has time for you. He can never spend a night with you, reading quietly. But still you work for him. Still you try to please him. Still you try to be in the same company as him. Now he’s giving you things that aren’t good for you, that are addicting, just to keep you coming back to him. To keep you in this dream of his. But it’s all just his dream. Not yours. Your dream would never have expensive weeds or pollution or murder or starvation or sickness or fear. Your dream would be beautiful. Peaceful. Titillating.