




This isn’t a mug. It’s a prophecy in 11oz of ceramic despair. Durable white clay, shiny finish, comfortable C-handle — all the hallmarks of stability, in a culture where nothing else is.
Lead- and BPA-free, but don’t worry — you’ll still get your daily dose of toxins from the economy, the water supply, and your boss’s passive-aggressive emails. It’s the perfect vessel for sipping overpriced lattes while silently calculating whether rent or groceries get paid this month.
The Americana pin-up smiles as she drinks her sugar foam — the poster child of empire, drowning in debt, pretending the milk froth masks the rot. Camp. Kitsch. Collapse.
This mug doesn’t just hold coffee. It holds the punchline to the joke of modern life — and the joke is you.
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