"You wake up the next morning with your dick glued to your leg--you don't know why!"

I have noticed a manufactured geniality pervading my environment these days. Last Monday, Christy and I went to IKEA, which is--as you all may know--the initial bastion of this perverse idiom - a sort of hive of consumerism. Around 1957, the Swiss grew bored with curing cancer and cloning their entire population (a cirriculum they will keep from us for fifty years, after America has destroyed the rest of the world) and decided to turn their Arian gaze toward America. There are displays of whole living areas to give you a wet-dream in the real of things you can never have - at least all at once. You may not be able to put that couch, rug, shelving unit(s), entertainment equipment and lighting arrangements into your hovel; but you sure as hell can bring guests' attention to your $180.57 bamboo lamp stand from some North African country. And where ever did you get such a unique and glorious piece? Mother fucking IKEA.

This IKEA has become an institution, not unlike the armed forces or the Catholic church. A false sense of livelihood has been raised by an interior decorative company--AN INTERIOR DECORATING COMPANY--and Americans are gobbling it up like free crack on Thursday morning (always check with your local dealer for time and locations changes in accordance with Free Crack Thursday Mornings). Do the American people understand that there is a dogma being impressed upon them, and that it is based not upon faith or the hereafter, but simple aesthetic? Hell, no. We want it and we want it bad.
What the fuck happened to my country?

The carnal snarl of these companies is hidden behind a right neighborly facade. We can do it and they can help; we shouldn't leave home without them; like a good neighbor, they are there for us. Each one is an even heavier blow from the Mjollnir of advertising - they keep coming back to us, and they are always more devastating the next time around. Why couldn't commercials be informative instead of evocative? Why does everyone need to be visually, aurally and sexually stimulated just to buy a can of spray-paint? The answer is simple: because we're too fucking smart to be satisfied with simple information; it doesn't stimulate us enough. We are smart enough to do anything we set our minds to and we're too stupid to realize it.
What the fuck happened to my country?