As the manufacturing economy reconfigures, you often hear the lament that “America doesn’t make anything anymore.” But then there’s this: Most of the world’s digital centers of gravity have been, and remain, American. Apple and Microsoft. Google and Yahoo. YouTube and Amazon and eBay. Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. Kickstarter. Netflix. PayPal. Akamai, the content-delivery behemoth. Intel, the internal combustion engine of the whole shebang. And for that matter, the Internet itself and the organization that regulates its domain names were both born and raised in (you guessed it) America.

The problem is that we now have a maladaptive situation because sugar is available 24/7, 365 in amounts that has never been known to man previously. How do we know this is true? Because the orangutans in Papua New Guinea have what are known as masting fruit orgies every January when harvest time comes, and the food falls to the ground, and they do exactly the same thing. We assume that this must be the reason sugar was put here for us in the first place.

How does anyone really know that they’ve picked the right baby formula, soda or car? They don’t, and manufacturers know that. That’s why our economy is filled with highly promoted branding campaigns that, however superficial or annoying, can be enormously helpful guides. In 1982, Coca-Cola demonstrated its market power with a star-studded commercial, featuring Bob Hope and Joe Namath, to introduce Diet Coke. Pepsi recently paid a fortune to hire Nicki Minaj as a spokeswoman. Even for consumers who don’t listen to her music or trust her expertise in the carbonated-beverage sector, the mere act of paying for a pop-star endorser sends a subconscious signal that their product is so successful that, well, they can afford Nicki Minaj.