Bankruptcy (#1)
An excerpt from Daily Bread, a story of Spiritual Bankruptcy through the eyes of the food system
If you are just joining, note that this is an excerpt of a book-in-progress, titled Daily Bread, about the spiritual bankruptcy in America as seen through the lens of the food system. All passages are available for free in sequential order, though it is perfectly acceptable to read one without the other, should you wish.
A single day in my life would have been enough to convince a reasonable man to change his ways. It took me considerably longer. I was such an elegant drinker of whiskey, perhaps I remained hidden to myself. Bad habits formed. My poor diet was not a reflection of lack of knowledge. I knew better. I knew an awful lot about where things come from and how they’re made and what they do to one’s body. But a convenient store submarine of ultra-processed tortured animal products on a celiac inducing bread roll suffocated within petroleum-based polymers created by violently heating ethane and propane, alongside a bag of genetically modified and glyphosate ridden corn chips and a high fructose corn syrup candy bar was a good idea to a brain poisoned by my voluntary consumption of ethanol. The more popular and widely accepted phrase to describe such an activity would be “snack and a beer.” It is amazing what is not revealed in those few words.
I don’t care for the talk of addiction. And the notion that alcoholism is a disease is ignorant. As if drinking and eating myself to death were like cancer. No one would choose to get cancer, nor could they. I chose to be an alcoholic. I was a proud drinker. I was an enlightened drinker (to my inebriated peers). I enjoyed well-oiled conversation with friends and neighbors and strangers. In time I was no longer proud, knew I was far from enlightenment, and the joy of drunken conversation had run dry. So I stopped, and in doing so realized I’d misspent years of my life at a great expense to myself and some expense to others. Though I certainly do not further misspend my time by filling it with regret.
I do not care to relive any of the exceedingly grotesque memories I’ve collected over the years, so I will refrain—to your chagrin, I’m sure—though will fill that space with some cultural theorizing:
I was not the only one bellied up to guzzle poison at those drinking establishments over the many years. I was not the only one gobbling up toxic food from gas stations and convenient stores and fast-food restaurants. And, while I no longer partake in these activities, am confident they didn’t cease to exist after I renounced them.
At certain moments I wonder about the people engaged in this fast-food debauchery who aren’t drunkards. I do not mean to suggest my drinking gave me good reason, but it did give me reason. People defend fast food daily, as if it were something in need of defending! I equate this to both shame and a fallacious, bourgeois sympathy held mostly by college educated Caucasian females—an innate capacity to nurture gone awry. I apologize to those who may have been offended by that statement. However, I believe it is important to recognize when such capacities for good are mistakenly implemented to defend evil. The feeble contention I most often hear is regarding poverty, as if it couldn’t be morally countered: you can’t argue with the poor! They say. I certainly can, and you shouldn’t put words in the mouths of people you have nay been acquainted.
It is true that the cheapest calories one can purchase come from fast-food restaurants. This is an atrocity with colossal consequence, which we’ve seen, not just to the eater, but to an untold millions who are involved with the process, including Mama Earth herself. However, the notion that one could defend fast-food by citing the poor that regularly eats it is false. It is the wealthiest that consume the most of it, directly followed by the horrid bourgeoisie, then the poor. I already see your head reeling, hoping my dearth of a citation may rescue you, as if some institution’s data collection would adequately represent the impoverished. Hardly. If you question me, as you should, I’d encourage you to go digging for truth yourself, as I have, instead of brazenly entrusting some American institution to provide it to you.
Why do the wealthy eat garbage? For the same reason everyone else does. And please take pause before suggesting that the poor eat so terribly because terrible food is all they can afford. There is correlation, but not causation. People enjoy eating terribly because it tastes good. Then we Americans capitalized on our own people, then everyone else, by making this food more accessible than any other, at the expense of us all, if we cared to notice.
The defendants of terrible eating exist on both sides of the political aisle, though the Right merely says they like it, they want it, you can’t take it away from us. The Left gaslights and manipulates ad nauseum: they talk of food deserts, as if the poor would consume differently should organic health stores spread across their lands offering vegetables and flaxseeds for a similar cost. No, they would not. The poor do not want healthy food, they want unhealthy food. The rich do not want healthy food, they want unhealthy food. The bourgeoisie do not want healthy food, they want unhealthy food. The Left defends them, defends them, defends them. It isn’t their fault, they say. Oh, Dear Lord, are our gullets not yet brimming over from the gluttony of victimhood? It is their fault: America eats unhealthfully not because we’re forced to, but because we lack even an infinitesimal will.
The market would shift should the populist tell it to. This brings a provocative notion to mind: there is correlation between the rise of the people and spread of wealth, and relatively poor decision making. We were far healthier when the bad men were in charge. Of course, I do not wish to believe less freedom is for the betterment of humankind, but when one takes the time to compare the present to the past one often finds less happiness, less health (I’m not referring to health as innovative medical procedures we’ve been forced to invent to save ourselves from suffocating beneath our own weight), and less good nature for the majority. We have not done so very well with our freedom. Like the grapes of the finest wine, we are at our best when forced to struggle.
Further, it seems the bad men prefer us to have our freedom, because there’s less guilt and more money to be made. They count on us to regularly make the wrong decision, and we are all too happy to acquiesce. The idea that we are to blame is never popular, but one must not be afraid to step into darkness to better see the light. Follow your money. It will show you who you are.
***Originally I intended to break before the last two paragraphs, but chose to include them to arouse curiosity. The notions introduced in these paragraphs will be explored in greater depth as the work progresses.***