Scarab Tote Bag

The ancient Egyptians watched a dung beetle roll a ball of faeces and decided it was a god. They believed Scarabaeus sacer pushed the sun across the sky exactly like it pushed manure across the sand. Now this sacred coprophage is printed on canvas to haul your overpriced oat milk. Which lowly insect deserves to be elevated to your grocery-hauling deity next? Look at the sheer theological audacity. You take a bug whose entire biological imperative is burying animal waste so its larvae don't starve, and you crown it with the solar disc. You flank it with royal cobras. You slap the ankh of eternal life next to its six spiky legs. It is the ultimate human paradox. We are desperate to find the divine in the dirt. Now Khepri, the lord of the morning sun, is resurrected in black cotton to do the heavy lifting for a fistful of daisies and a cracked smartphone. We stripped the god of rebirth of his cosmic duties and handed him your spare chapstick.