I love my friends and neighbors. And I honestly appreciate that they want to include me in their circles of friendship.

Why then, did a sense of dread wash over me, when the lovely lady across the street rang my doorbell bearing a gallon sized Ziploc bag dated 11/21 and containing a single cup of goop?
Oh, no! The last time I fell victim to this particular insidious Amish plan, it was at the hands of a coworker I dearly love.
I thanked my neighbor profusely. I invited her in for a cup of tea. I told her how much I love Amish Friendship Bread. And, I do. So why the dread, you ask?
The secret, substance called “starter” has the magical power to produce the finished product. But only if I slavishly follow the strictly proscribed rules. Isn’t there something very sinister about this?
I’m not afraid of the bread itself, or even the rigorous schedule for palpitating the bag every day and baking on day 10, come hell or high water. No, it is being one small part of a much greater and more sinister tyranny that makes me quake with fear for the future of civilization as we know it.
Beware! Amish Friendship Bread is a pyramid scheme to take over the world, one Ziploc bag at a time.

My neighbor gives me one. At the end of 10 days I end up with my delicious Amish Friendship Bread and FOUR bags I must give to others. Those four people give to four people who give to four people who give to four people…well you get the idea.
By the end of March, just 140 days away, I will be personally responsible for the Amish enslavement of Two Hundred Eighty-Six Million, Four Hundred Thirty-Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fifty-Six people! (It looks scarier spelled out, but in digits that’s 286,435,456)
By the end of one year every man, woman and child on the planet could be under their domination.
What is next? The absence of modern technology? An inflationary increase in the price of those little red reflective triangles? Brotherly love? World peace? God help us.