A Man Cannot Live by Media Alone

Engaged in a semi-permanent power struggle between the positive and negative ions flowing in my bloodstream, I have often considered the possibility of simply renting out the myriad passageways (over 200 miles of them, if memory serves) to microcosmic advertising executives constantly struggling in an epic (to them) media war to subvert the highly ingrained tendencies my corpuscular entities are drawn by. Sadly, the rate of exchange on the hemoglobic currency proposed in this inter-existential crossover has stuck its grotesque proboscis squarely central, as said currency has neither the ability to be exchaged easily (being that it is irreplacable as a function of my dependence on a rather lackluster mutant power involving the conversion of Oxygen into energy) nor does it possess purchasing power enough even in its refined state to procure from my fellow carbon monkeys enough corn to choke a toddler.