I bought my love a bread maker… twenty-five years ago. It was a new craze at the time, that was as old as civilization itself: baking bread. In ancient Rome noble artisans weren’t called “Bread Makers” they were called slaves. But with the advance of technology and like 1000 years or something Roman slaves found themselves out of work and replaced by machines. Not that I am pro-slave. In fact I am probably almost entirely opposite pro-slave. I don’t want to get political here in a simple story about a bread maker – so apologies in advance for what I am about to say to a whole bunch of members of congress and the current white house team and everyone in the the alt mainstream factual news media #realnews #notahoaxorwitchhuntnewschannels

BUT I am totally anti-slavery. Sorry guys. And yes, it is mostly guys… so double apologies to any slave believing ladies out there…. But really when it comes to slavery I gotta say — hard pass. From ancient Rome to the millions and millions of modern slaves in sweatshops or in caste systems and the Governments that support them – gotta say it, not a fan. I know, I know… but cheap stuff! I get it. Let’s talk about cheap stuff: bread makers. I bought one for my girlfriend … and no I wasn’t cheating on my wife. It was my wife! … just under a different relationship situation agreement called dating. But if you want to think of me as a cheater fine – just know I was cheating on my future wife unbeknownst to her AND me — with a younger lady who happened to also be her… so it’s kind of nonsense to bust me on that. ANYWAY — As the scenesters we were I bought her this awesome new thing called a bread maker… and we made bread. And it was good.

And then one day we looked in the bread maker and the wand was gone! Yeah. WTF right? But back then it was actually “What the Fuck!” Where is the wand you are wondering. Well you are not the only one because we looked everywhere for the damn wand and it was gone. We kind of wished we had some kind of a magic stick we could wave and the wand would just appear. BUT alas no magic stick exists and you can spend your whole life waiting for a magic stick but it’s not coming. Unless Elon? Anything? We figured we must have dumped it in the trash when we were cleaning up. Remember this is twenty-five years ago, no internet or Amazon (though ironically we had a lot more Amazon back then) … So the options to replace a bread maker wand are … A. take a trash barge to trash island and spend the next twenty-five years digging around in trash OR B. go back to Macys and see if they can order a replacement. I chose option B… and quickly found that A. might have been a better use of my time. After five or six visits to Macys and confusing back and forths with impeccably dressed managers and numerous calls to the manufacturer it was determined that no wand would be coming. Ever. Now here is where the story takes a turn made for Hollywood. Not a Hollywood ending exactly – more like a Hollywood middle — because each time I walked through the store I walked past the display for bread makers… remember this was a craze at the time. I looked at the very same model I had bought to woo my affair lady, sitting there under the hot lights surrounded by throngs of eager young lovers crowding the display stand and imagining the hot loafs they would soon turn into from all the hot loaves of bread they’d be baking as they enjoyed their youth and a naïve sense of pre-lost innocence. Ohhhh if these young masters of the universe, these American Vanity Bonfiring Prozac Psychos only knew what hell they were actually contemplating. Here’s where things got real… On my last trip out of Macys… pushed to my absolute limit… imagining a world of un-wanded bread for maybe the rest of my life…. I did something I am not proud of and will confess to here for the first time. I became… a bread taker. That’s right. I casually wandered up to the display and put on the role of “shopper” – “oh look a bread maker…I’ve heard of these… Maybe I want one!?” I thought acted. I’ve always been a thought actor. It’s more method than method trust me. And I was one of the best because as I thought this the truth was — It’s all lies… because I knew what they were and I didn’t really want one. What I really wanted was a damn wand. AND there it was. Just sitting there annoyingly not wanding anything, down in the cold belly of the unplugged display model. BUT not for long because I suddenly became a monster – like that character Charlize Theron played in that movie I can’t remember… completely transformed. I looked around. No one was looking. I grabbed the wand and quickly dropped it into my pants. Wow, cold wand steal everywhere! I then I thought acted, “RUN!” But in real life I played it cool and did some sort of a weird power walk-awkward smiled-sweaty half run-knock over some displys- right out of the store. So long suckers! An adrenaline rush hit as the wand blade shifted.

When I got home we made bread just like the old days. But something was off. Honesty it tasted like balls. And not because it was in my ball holder clothes. We used to call it underwear. Not sure what it’s called today. But not because it was in my underwear– But because it was crime bread. Ill-begotten stolen wand bread. The sweet taste of warm butter overshadowed by the sour taste of guilt jelly. So from then on we didn’t really make bread anymore – because it tasted gross. BUT I did apparently hang onto the bread maker… because I found it today in the back of the pantry closet as we manically stress clean every corner of our house and ponder the end of civilization. I’m throwing it out now… it doesn’t work anymore. Uhm. Just like slavery. Time to let it go people! See this was really a piece about ending slavery. Kind of makes you think, right? I guess we all need a spoonful of guilt jelly from time to time.#sorrymachysstatuteoflimitations #presidentwillpardonmeanywayimeanlookatthemaniacsheslettingoutofjail #bakemorebread

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