Me being given two cookies instead of one signals the corruption that lies at the heart of man and the nothingness of law within any given situation. The enlightenment has failed, western civilization has ended, the dinosaurs are coming back to kill and fuck us all in alliance with some A.I. terminators.
Ok maybe I am being a bit dramatic. Terminator raptors would be pretty cool though.
The cookie scenario happened despite me only half-paying attention to the sandwich artist. I even felt a little bad that I wasn’t trying to make small talk. I was listening to Ready Player One and fetishizing the possibility of Zizek’s AR reality coming to life. This is something critical theory and common sense wouldn’t like, but I feel brings in the essences of the universe into my grasp very cleanly.
As I was fantasizing about flying across the ocean with ease, symbolic order intact while adjusting to an entirely different culture without a second thought assisted by augmented reality, the guy was clearly speaking to me. I couldn’t tell if I wasn’t listening, or if he just didn’t enunciate clearly. Many times our day to day workers are smart people just crushed by the capitalist machine, but sometimes they are fucking idiots. This man was neither, but he seemed to garble his words,, he was a bit overweight and I wonder if his fleshy face contributed to it or if it was something else. Plenty of larger people enunciate better than I do, so perhaps it’s the sandwich artist grind which inspires an intercommunication style which talks to one’s self.
Then suddenly, it came on.
“The Greatest Love Of All,” by Whitney Houston.
“Whitney Houston,” I tell the cashier. “I wasn’t expecting Whitney Houston at Subway.”
He began to state that he doesn’t pick the songs, clearly not understanding that in fact, I like this Whitney Houston song. The fact of the matter is, I like Whitney Houston. She seemed to care about an ideal love, which in a famous woman I assume signals a deep emotional issue, which I find very endearing. Rather than stepping on the world which she clearly could, being the diva that she was, she sang, “I believe the children are our future.”
Inspiring. After I made it clear I liked the song, the man at Subway could tell I was desirous of his environment. I enjoyed the song choice, and he, being the Subway rep, could share in my delight.
He was told to only give out one cookie with a meal, but he clearly picked up two, and put both cookies in the bag. Not only that, when I dropped my wallet after he filled it up, as he could tell I was really engaging with him if only half-listening, or more likely, because I was half-listening, providing the lack which is key to desire, he picked up my wallet with seeming reverence when I dropped it, in a very friendly manner. It wasn’t a slavish manner, but the manner of a man who decided he and another were in a union, a union against the symbolic order.
And yet, the symbolic order between the two were present, retailer and customer. He gives me something which isn’t his but that he has immediate administrative control over, and continues our conversation which I only half-hear and he only half-speaks
My cognitive abilities were lowered due to half-attention, but I was able to gain more and have better interpersonal relationships.
Perhaps the best professional move for myself is lobotomy, maybe it would recreate and expand this highly successful result which I achieved here today.
Maybe I’ll just wait until Neuralink so I can get some high tech lobotomy action. Clicking Tesla rockets crash landing in my head, cutting off nerve endings, increasing my interpersonal communication skills.
We’ll see!
Mad Black Freud 
This piece changed my life. Please, have my children!
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