Maybe it's just me (it isn't), but there's something Teutonic about the word "Whitewheat" as displayed here on this bread. This is not a font choice with which to hit a man who has to make sandwiches at 6 o'clock in the morning. The mind wanders. Maybe it's the pairing of the word "white" with this particular font, but there's something happening here that makes me think my bread was probably stomping around the kitchen in squared-off boots listening to crappy metal and shouting slogans before I came downstairs this morning. It probably heard me on the steps and concealed itself among the other products in the breadbasket like a viper, like a lit bomb, like a cancer.
My bread is planning something. My bread thinks that it is better than other breads, and will gather like-minded breads to the cause, demanding tests of toasting and crustily declaring itself the "final solution to hunger." Like yeast, it is active and rising. Look at how it proclaims its purity, free from the artificial preservatives, colors, flavors and corn syrups of what it likely thinks of as "mongrel breads." Peep the pairing of "healthy" and "white" across the bold red and black - an accident? Can it be a coincidence that this brand comes from "Nature's Own?" Everything else is "unnatural?" Happenstance? The hell you say!
I've got my eye on you, Whitewheat.