This is a chunk of something that came to me today as I was grocery shopping. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it.
You all know me very well. Some of you have known me since you were children. Others of you have only now discovered me. You all know my name. It is imbedded in your minds like the names of the celebrities you read about in your gossip magazines. While some may argue my character, there is one undeniable truth. I am a fake. Fake, like the smile on the faces of your in-laws. I am processed, I am artificial, and I am sure I have no soul. But, I am convenient, and that is my saving grace. I am the product of your laziness, of your indulgence, and your negligence. Like all the pollution choking this planet to death, I am here because you need me to make your life easier. I have fans, but for the most part I am seen for what I am. I am a byproduct, a cheap imitation of my predecessor. Like a spit-polish shine on your oldest most worn out shoes, I look better than I should, but I will never be a new pair of loafers. I am not even comparable to my ancestor on a microscopic level. Scientists have created me, an unholy cheap replica of what I shall never be. I am an empty, second-rate, clone. I am like a forged bank note that cheapens the economy with my presence. But, I am here, and some would like to see me done away with, like the dirt you push under the rug so you don’t need to look at it anymore. They wish to stop the making me, they say that my kind will bring destruction to you all. They may be right, there is nothing organic in me, it has all been processed and altered from its natural state, like the petroleum powering your cars. I am a slap in Mother Nature's face. I am practically plastic. But what is real anymore? Not that make-up on your face to disguise your blemishes. Not the colour of your hair that came from a bottle. Not the height you would not have if it weren’t for those heels you wear. Not that ego you put on to hide your insecurity. Not that tan you spray or bake on to attract others. Not those contacts you use to change your eye colour. Not that diet chocolate bar you eat so that you can bypass your guilt. Not the things you buy to fill what’s missing inside you. You could never survive without me. You are fooling yourselves if you think you could. I am, Cheez Whiz. Bwah hahahahahaha!! LOL! ha hahahahaha! think?


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