Broken Trust

I’m reminded once again why I’m suspicious of businesses and corporations. Why I think that they’re all about making money at the expense at everything else.

Not like it hasn’t happened before. I remember the Ford Pinto and the exploding gas tank and the cost/benefit memo.

I also remember the Sackler family, Purdue Pharma, Oxycontin and the opioid epidemic that swept the US beginning in the 1990s.

There was also the environmental pollution that took place in WoburnMassachusetts in the 1980s involving Beatrice Foods, resulting in so many local cancer cases.

Not to mention the case involving PG&E and the Hinkley drinking water which brought Erin Brockovich fame.

And since we’re on PG&E, what about their role in the 2018 Camp Fire that killed 84 people, caused in part when PG&E deferred maintenance to increase profits?

I lived in California when Enron famously manipulated the power grid and the price of electricity in order to enrich themselves.

Who can forget the 2007-2008 recession caused by derivatives, CDS, the housing bubble and AIG (American International Group)? Remember all those corporate bailouts?

While I’m in this memory hole, I might as well remind everyone of the savings and loan schedule of last century, Charles Keating, and the Lincoln Savings and Loan scandal.

These are just a few examples of Why. I. Don’t. Trust. Corporations.

Now comes this.

Three egg producers will pay $3.3 million and donate 53 million eggs over price-fixing

Cal-Maine Foods, Versova/Centrum, and Hickman’s Egg Ranch — have been found to have colluded to artificially inflate egg prices from June 2022 to March 2025.

And there was Donald Trump throughout 2024, up there ranting and raving about President Biden’s inability to control egg prices, ignoring the bird flu of that time.

Now we learn that companies actively worked together to raise prices.

Meanwhile, during the 2024 election season, MAGAts regularly posted photos of grocery receipts and egg cartons, arguing a dozen eggs cost roughly $1.50 during Trump’s first term but spiked significantly under the Biden-Harris administration.

To which I say to Cal-Maine Foods, Versova/Centrum, and Hickman’s Egg Ranch: you assholes.

A Friend’s Parents Dream

I was a young man, as I often seem to be in my dreams these days. Visiting at a childhood friend’s home. He wasn’t there. His mother, Arlene — who is deceased in RL — was hosted several of us attending a local school. While visiting, we were all watching television. I settled down on the blue carpet and went to sleep.

I awoke sometime later. Sitting up, I discovered that I was in a short-sleeved black dress. A little more explanation is needed. The dress was black, but see-through. It buttoned in the front. It had wide seams which weren’t transparent, and front pockets which also weren’t transparent. The dress came down to my knees, and I was fully dressed, in the same clothes as before.

Standing, I wondered what had happened and how I’d come to be wearing that dress. I attempted to take take it off but the buttons couldn’t be undone. It was tight, but with some maneuvering, I managed to pull it up over my head. Just as I am finishing, I hear a soft tearing sound. That stops me from trying any longer. Just then, my friend’s mother comes in with a tray of food and drink, telling me that it’s time to get ready. She goes on to explain that she put that dress on me to stay warm, sets the tray down, and hastens to help me. As she pulls it over my head and off, she tells me that she hopes she can get this off without tearing it because it’s special to her. We then hear it tear more. Looking at it, she sees that it’s torn and is dismayed, but then tells me to eat because I need to shave, dress, and go.

I eat an egg salad sandwich from the tray and drink coffee, and then start dashing around. My clothes are upstairs but the bathroom I’m to use is down below. As I hustle around, going up and changing clothes, then going down and shaving, others arrrive. I hear that my friend’s father will be arriving at any moment. (He passed away in RL a few years ago.) I want to be dressed and ready to go before he gets there. But then, he comes in.

I’m called upstairs. As I go up the steps, someone else tells me that Fred — the father — and Arlene want to see me. I step into the dining room where they are. Fred has a box on the table, and is opening. As he says hello to me, Arlene explains that Fred just purchased his first CD player and she wanted to know if I had any CDs for him to play because he doesn’t have any. I tell them that I have just the thing and dash downstairs.

I’m thinking that I’ll loan them several of my classical music CDs, which will surprise them, thinking that it’s more like the kind of music that they would like, rather than the rock I listen to. But I brought my little CD case, and there’s no classical music in it. I select a few blues CD and take them back up to them. Grinning, I explain the whole thing about the classical music CD.

Dream end.

I’ve not seen my friend since my late teens. Oddly, I’ve dream of him since then, as well as his parents.

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