I am not just a consumer.
In fact, besides books and letters and delicious food, I do not want to consume.
I see a woman, and she is sitting on a faded adirondack chair, surrounded by small end tables teeming with food. She is eating mashed potatoes. But really she lounges in a recliner. I just wanted to say adirondack when I don't actually know what that looks like, so I envision a squishy recliner and use a different word. As she spoons each mound of buttery potatoes into her mouth, she grins. Then she picks up two connected lengths of juicy sausage. They are sizzling with natural flavors, otherwise known as smoke-scented chemicals injected into the meat. She shoves them down her stretched gullet like a junkyard dog, one after the other. The second one gets lodged a little, but instead of panicking, she just grabs a nearby spoon and uses the long end to poke the sucker down. And it works. She follows it up with a swig of low and sweetened iced tea which feels good on her slightly irritated throat. She grabs a slab of pepperoni pizza and folds it like a taco. Then she swings it around and around, playing the "airplane game", and she expels gas which sounds like zooming noises. Every time she extends her bite to rip into the pizza, the "airplane" zooms away just out of her reach. She growls with determination and then lifting a little out of her chair she lunges and finally gets the prize. Pepperoni is a favorite among many people, I think.
As evening arrives, this woman can be found in the same place, maybe she has even sunk a little. The surrounding area is strewn with packaging and unwanted toppings and sullied napkins and empty glass bottles. There is no food left, and yet she is still nibbling. There are juices dribbling down her double chin and her eyes are half closed in contentment. Look closer. See the small incision on her abdomen and see the length of tubing poking out. It is not as tough as jerky, and maybe not as tasty as sausage, but she does not want to stop eating and it satisfies.