I love going to the hippie grocery store (it's called Beans and Grains here where I live). All the little hippies working their little hippie asses off. The girls at the checkout line with hairy armpits. The homosexuals holding hands while they make the sandwiches (with love; always cook with love). The stock boys, obviously just back from smoking their lunch, smiling as they do what everyone in this store is doing:

Making a shit load of money for the owner.

What a scam. I know the people who own this store, and you can take it to the bank that they don't give a flying fetaburger about anything but that wonderful concept of profit. They hire the little revolutionaries as beards.

The poor little hippies just don't get this and they always act really shocked when they discover the owner has instituted something so dreadful as, say, a discount card at the hippie grocery. Oh my God!

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