I used to be unable to resist craving for sweets and savory treats. Now I’m free from the doof industry’s deliberate strategy to addict people, or at least mostly so.

Walking along Seventh Avenue, I saw this revolting sight: a trash can overflowing with pink boxes designed to look adorable and appealing. They say the name of the store creating this garbage: “Crumbl”.

I see the store around. They make doof: sweet, sugary doof.

To clarify, I don’t look for this revolting stuff. It’s everywhere. I just can’t help taking pictures when I feel vomit forming, to show how twisted we’ve made our world.

As much as I couldn’t resist such products before, today, I would pick apples over any sweet doof. They grow locally and can be stored for any season. Even if I could eat only one type of apple as the only sweet for the rest of my life, I would choose it over all the doof in the world. One apple alone has more flavor, nuance, and complexity than all the doof in the world, and carry no guilt or shame.

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Sure enough, just above the trash can is a store selling people doof in packages designed to look adorable but that we taxpayers get stuck with cleaning, not to mention future generations dealing with their garbage, not to mention present generations kicked of their land and made homeless, families torn apart, to access the minerals and fuel under their land to make the wretched disposable packaging.

The boxes don’t even go ten yards before become trash. The products end up as fat on people’s bodies.

Here’s the store:

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Here’s that garbage from another perspective. I don’t see meaningful differences between this store and its products compared with the fentanyl, meth, and crack dealers in the partk.

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