Short Film description: “I asked my dear friend and Farmer’s Market guru Farm Fresh Girl to give us a couple of pointers on buying local. Not only did she offer some great advice, she also threw in a shopping list and shared some tricks of the trade on utilizing produce and avoiding waste.”
I swear hipsters have nothing better to do than make attention-seeking shit like this.

The clitoris no longer makes any sense to me. Are you happy now?

However, this could be interpreted as a searing condemnation of the locavore movement as hollow, fetishistic autoerotica, devoid of inherent meaning or higher principle. While the “Farm Fresh Girl” maintains the façade of supporting community agriculture in a friendly, June Cleaver-esque manner, it is merely the mask, the “leafy beard” if you will, which hides her polymorphous perversity (though not perfectly, as a flash of her darker nature is witnessed early in the piece).

The dark Mrs. Cleaver, after returning to her foil-wrapped sanctum (perhaps evocative of the cooking of a baked potato), proceeds to shed the thin veneer of civilization. She revels in her debauched sensuality and sexuality. She subverts instruments of cleansing (the douche, the toilet) by introducing food and filth – consuming, rather then disposing of, their contents.

Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.

The What In The Actual-Fuck Is This Award of the Week


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