by Jamie Lauren Keiles
When I was a young teen, my mother would sometimes try to make me eat yogurt. “Just a bite, for protein,” she’d beg. I’d stare at her, glassy-eyed, over a copy of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Usually, I gave in. But I’m not a teen anymore. I dislike most things about this so-called “food” and I will not eat it.
To begin with, I hate the word yogurt. I hate that it is sometimes spelled “yoghurt,” an artifact of colonial British influence resonant even in 2015. I hate that the masses remain blind to the fact that the popularity of Greek yogurt has yet to improve the Greek economy, only further enshrining the power of the supranational bankers who control the Euro (not to mention, the Fed, the World Bank, and the IMF). Yogurt is an insidious hegemonic structure in which the fruit on the bottom is doomed to remain oppressed as a result of the totalitarian dominance of an elite cream top.
One big lie perpetuated by the monied pro-yogurt lobby is the notion that yogurt is “great for women,” like thalidomide. Well, I’ll tell you one thing: I’m a woman, and yogurt is not great for me. My female comrades certainly hate yogurt too, even if they don’t know it yet. One, a twenty-five-year-old alienated laborer, told me: “You seem really paranoid lately. Are you stressed?” Sounds pretty defensive to me! Another, a twenty-three-year-old sister in the struggle for the liberation of the oppressed classes said, “I love you. I am just trying help, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.” I don’t really believe her, though! Yogurt leaves me feeling hungry for both sustenance and truth, like a women living in Bergen-Belsen might have felt if the Holocaust were real. The socialist plot of Obamacare has prevented me from finding a therapist, but I’m sure that when I do, he/she will back me up.
A third friend from my job handing out tracts in the subway confessed: “I like yogurt, but sometimes it makes me feel like I’m living a lie.” She’s onto something! Yogurt does feel like a vast intergovernmental conspiracy. A Jezebel staffer I spoke to claims to like yogurt, but added, “It’s better in Europe. Actually, Cambodian yogurt is the best.” It’s no surprise, really, that the global imperialists of the yogurt industry are in bed with the feminazi mouthpieces of the Jew-run New York media.
Yogurt, you see, is not real food. It’s a GMO false flag planted by Monsanto in order to pin blame for rising food prices on the recent influx of Latin American immigrants. Managing to cover up its insidious tartness with anodyne blueberry propaganda, yogurt — as YouTube user StonyfieldAlarms explains in his video “CIA Cracktivia Conspiracy” — is marketed as a source of healthy probiotics in yet another communist plot like water fluoridation meant to sap the strength of a generation of American children.
Despite what the yogurt industry would have us think, yogurt is not an indulgence. It is not something that can be eaten joyfully, especially not until the body of Amelia Earhart has been successfully recovered and autopsied. As far as I can tell, yogurt is meant for brisk and grim consumption by an uninformed public that was brainwashed from birth by Disney films rife with hidden pinko commie messages. If you search “Yogurt” on Shutterstock, most of the photos you will find are decidedly not-grim, but peel back the foil lid of denial and you’ll soon see the truth that the secret power elite doesn’t want you to know:
WTC 7 didn’t just blow itself up!!!!
Is yogurt for real? About as real as the moon landing, and certainly less real than the plausible alternate history suggested in Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code. No offense if you like yogurt, but basically, every spoonful we allow into our mouths is a gesture of capitulation to thousands of years of patriarchal tyranny.
Occasionally, of course, members of the power elite eat yogurt, too. Consider this image of the craft service table from the annual covert meeting of the Bilderberg Group:
Here is Pol Pot’s grocery list:
Here is a copy of Barack Obama’s birth certificate:
Here is the line of sight from the grassy knoll:
Take a moment to look at that disgusting pile of evidence. How does it make you feel? Oppressed? That’s what I thought. So please, join me. The master’s spoon will never dismantle the master’s single serve cup of lactose intolerance. It’s time to shake off the chains of probiotic lies and join the proletarian struggle from Liberté.