Big Farma is taking over the world, jacking up prices on every tomato and pickle that comes out of the ground, and no one is doing a damn thing about it!
So many farmers have a strangle hold on poor financial investors and Wall Street stock brokers, that some suits have had to take second jobs as taxi drivers, senators, or drug pushers.
When will Big Farma stop gouging the little guy for every cent just so we can all have corn on the cob? I don’t even like corn, but I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of addictive substance in it to make me keep eating it. And it always gets stuck in my teeth and I look like a goddamn idiot chewing away at a buttery cob!
When will the oil tycoons and pharmaceutical makers stand up for their rights and demand tractor makers and whoever makes those little tiny shovels little old ladies use to plant their geraniums – when will they stop their Reign of Farma Terror? Little old ladies have rights too! Tins of tuna for their cats don’t come cheap!
Big Tuna … you know who you are – you’re next, pricks!
If we all didn’t have stomachs, then the farmers of the world couldn’t tighten their leashes around our necks. So get rid of your stomachs, and be free! Food is communistic! Food is the Great Reset and QANON and Build Back Better and all those other weird sayings that people barely know what they mean, but a buzz word is a buzz word – more important than truth.
Big Farma … without our stomachs, you’ll have to spend your billions on what? More John Deere hats? How many can one person wear at a time?!
I’m hungry … but I shall not give in to the Big Farm!
[Cue Bob Dylan singing how he ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more. He knew … long before anyone else.]