Dear Mr Ad Man,
Stop stealing our dreams and trying to sell them back to us.
Shove your Picket Fence, and your Mac Book up your arse. Then you'll know how we all feel, when you enter our sphincters uninvited.
Like a greedy empire-builder, you've colonised our souls for 80 years (this is just a guess; I'm not sure when they invented advertising but I imagine it came about after Wall St.) and now we want them back.
I won't buy your golf clubs, or your trouser press, or your 'Lost' box-set.
I will buy a tooth brush and tooth paste -
- not because you tell me to, but because if I don't my teeth will rot -
and I will brush my teeth in a mountain stream,
and I will sit in the forest and weep.
A Human Being.