Pancake late stage capitalism

The origin of pancakes happened on a windy day in a stone cave, where two people who were in love woke up that morning later than they may have usually, after having sex with each other for the first time all throughout the night. The man in the cave came from the Butterworth family. His generous family was a fair one that sold and purchased farm life from people around the county. His family was the cornerstone of the community. Nothing happened without their words being considered The woman in the cave was the village tramp, and though nobody thought she was worth her salt, she knew how to use the salt she wasn’t worth in a number of dishes that wowed and dizzied the young Butterworth son. One of those dishes she cooked up in the cave that morning. It was a prototype that would later shoot the world into sudden doom. She fed him what she called a “griddlecakey”. Just a bite was like making love without even a touch. Next a spoon full of her sticky concoction left him with sticky britches and an appetite larger than the angry mob telling them they will never be accepted as a real couple in this town full of maple trees and waffle knitted sweaters. Everyone knows how the story ends. The woman ends up killing the man for the deed to the town. She puts the townspeople to work and vengefully creates a toxic work environment so they can feel how they made her feel while she was being penetrated by the young heir to the Butterworth throne. With the hordes of forced labor she creates, The Mrs. Butterworth empire was made. The government will have you believe differently but this was the first business ever created. The woman was a polarizing character in this western Americana time period and is brought back to life every morning in kitchens across the United states. Mothers aspire toward her girl bossness and ability to destroy and murder those in her way as a creative way into the world of S.T.E.M. I bring up this classic story because I was eating pancakes today and I found that Mrs. Butterworth herself is the catalyst for capitalism in America. Let's look at Pancakes in general. They are small little cakes grilled in butter, but almost always they are difficult to eat alone. Enter the syrup. This adds a new dimension. The companion that gives pancakes a vital and equally magnetic supporting role in the theater of breakfast. A pad of butter on top. I dare you to hunt down all media containing pancakes throughout time. Nair will there ever be a depiction of appetizing looking cakes of pan lacking the pad of butter. It completes the dish and makes it a perfect equilateral triangle. Each side resting ever so gently on the next. Now it's time to blow shit up and start putting people into cardiac arrest. Chocolate chips, whip cream, strawberries, bananas, nuts and don’t forget the kitchen sink. Pancakes today are now an improvisational game of yes, and HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY HEART’S GONNA GIVE OUT! Never will the answer be no and never will there be an end to the ever flexible dish that sets a level foundation for whatever your imagination can muster up. Daddy can I have a doggy for christmas?! Oh yes and if I have a doggy I’ll need to feed it. I’ll need it to play with toys. I’ll need someone to walk it. A bed for the doggy to sleep on too, daddy, don’t forget! Daddy next Christmas I want a motor vehicle with pimped out rims for all the village to admire. I’ll need CD’s as well so everyone knows of my favorite gigs and carols. Seat covers too daddy, of the velvet cheetah variety. Every product is just an excuse to buy the next product until we are all dying from cardiac arrest. And it didn’t have to be this way. But there was once a woman, whose eyes were bigger than her stomach. She needed the house and car and land she admired so much, the only things she found admirable about her dead love partner. But once you see what that strong powerful murderous woman has created, feminism all but ceases to exist. Capitalism destroys us all. Pancakes are capitalism. Pancakes destroy us. Women create pancakes. Women create capitalism. Women destroy us all. Next time you walk past the colorfully labeled, welcoming, heavy set Butterworth pancakes mix and syrup, bundled together for a bargain, think about all the other things that would make the pancakes sing and dance. Think about the dirty dishes and sticky shirts you then have to wash in a bucket of salty tears and broken dreams. We all once lived peacefully. Each having a role that linked to the next. But the chaos of today can’t be changed or backtracked. All you can do is hope the injustice of pancake late stage capitalism is a flash in the butter soaked pan and soon less people will be constantly going into cardiac arrest.