Feedlot the Identity

Grocery aisle is a software update.

This isn’t about hunger. It’s about compliance. Behind every processed bite is a boardroom blueprint — synthetic flavors, shelf-life chemicals, hyper-palatable salt, sugar, fat — all engineered to override your biology and remap your cravings. You don’t eat to live. You eat because the system profits when you can’t stop.

The machine doesn’t feed you.

It entrains you. Rituals of food — family tables, cultural recipes, preparation — are memory-holed in favor of convenience. What once rooted identity now dissolves into consumption loops. Identity becomes textureless, passive, easily managed. You don’t taste tradition. You ingest formatting code.

Every step is monetized.

First at the checkout. Then at the clinic.

And the same logic plays out on Capitol Hill. Shutdowns aren’t malfunctions — they’re rituals of obedience. Agencies shuttered, services suspended, panic headlines looped until you internalize the lesson: survival is conditional, always contingent on forces above you. The trough doesn’t close because it’s empty—it closes to remind you who controls the feed. The grocery aisle and the government website flash the same message: nothing for you, everything for them.

They profit from your dependence — chemically induced, politically staged, biologically betrayed. And when the body or the society starts to break down under the load? More profit. From insulin. From statins. From defense contracts that never shut down.

You are not malfunctioning.

You are responding exactly as intended.

This isn’t food. It’s firmware. You are the device.

And the more you ingest, the less you resist.

You can’t outthink or willpower your way out. This isn’t a discipline failure. It’s architecture. A biochemical and political prison wearing a smiling label. You scan, you tap, you eat, you refresh — and every cycle trains you further away from clarity, sovereignty, and self.

You’re not what you eat.

You’re what they can profit from.