How I Attained Enlightenment By Hostilely Taking Over A Health Food Grocery Chain

Giving Americans the opportunity to eat better for less wasn’t just a long-term professional goal—it was a spiritual mission, and it can be achieved through volunteer work or charitable donations. Or you could do like I did: Take a shortcut by buying out a health food grocery chain owned by my former college roommate, Chip Donnelly.

Before I dropped out of Harvard to become a self-made multibillionaire by starting the world’s largest online retailer that also dabbles in Emmy-winning television production and is currently assembling a private military space force, I was just another lower-middle-class kid with a diet like a dumpster-diving raccoon. A week’s worth of groceries from a Wholesome’s health food grocery store (which fun fact, Chip inherited from his rich father), wasn’t nearly as affordable or accessible as fast food. I had hardly even seen broccoli before I made Forbes’ list of the richest people on earth.

And I couldn’t bear knowing Chip’s mismanagement of Wholesome’s was making the financial barrier to healthy eating too difficult for the average working-class family to overcome. Makes sense, since Chip’s never done anything particularly well, except for violating a roommate’s personal space. He was very good at that.

When Wholesome’s stock price dropped to a historic low, it sparked a tiny idea that ignited a wildfire of awakening. I could dissolve the construct of ego and bring myself closer to a more complete state of spiritual enlightenment if I took the only thing Chip had going for him since his wife took the kids in the divorce. Wholesome’s itself.

Don’t get me wrong. You can’t just buy your way to enlightenment. For instance, my journey towards achieving self-realization beyond the ego began humbly enough with a generous buyout offer that I knew Chip would of course refuse. This is why I worked tirelessly to persuade Wholesome’s most influential shareholders to give Chip the old heave-ho so that someone like myself, someone interested in helping the underprivileged eat more beets or whatever the hell, could secure the company.

My efforts proved successful. Wholesome’s is mine, and my spirit beams with light. Though I admittedly take umbrage with those who called it a “hostile takeover.” It was actually quite pleasant once security escorted Chip out of the building.

And to those worried that the spirit of Wholesome’s will change during the current transition, I can assure you that the only thing changing will be that smug look on Chip’s fat face (the very same I saw that fateful night years ago in our Harvard dorm room when Chip denied having eaten a sandwich I was saving for later. It was a wonderful sandwich. A half a pack of Oscar Meyer bologna slathered in mayonnaise and topped with crushed Cheetos, all between two slices of thin white bread. Sandwiches of that caliber don’t just get up and walk away).

I know you nourished yourself on my sandwich during one of your insatiable junk food binges, Chip (while berating anyone who so much as touched your horde of organic vegetables and lean meats in the fridge). So I nourished my soul with your family’s legacy.

However, rest assured I will make good on my promise to reduce prices so anyone can afford healthy organic food. I think a 90%-off sale before closing down all 783 Wholesome’s locations should do the trick.

Nama-fucking-ste, Chip.