Posted: March 22, 2010
Everyone has a thing about brussel sprouts. People either love them or hate them, and both are fine. Because the brussel is not a pretender. It knows its place and it stays there out of harms way. It knows it will never be a main-stay vegetable and it is fine with that.
But I am not fine with cabbage. In fact, I am disgusted by it. It is a pretender, a faker, and constantly trying to get into as many meals as possible! But the worst of its many hideous attributes makes all the others pale in to insignificance: you know what I am about to say and here it is—the cabbage is just LIKE the brussel sprout, only bigger! The disgusting thing never stops reminding us of it, day in, day out!
There is nothing worse than a cabbage rubbing itself in your face.
My disliking for cabbage began at a very young age. By the time of my eleventh birthday it had evolved in to so much more than a casual grudge; it had turned in to a full-throttle campaign of against-cabbage-terror. Whenever I saw a cabbage I kicked it with my small mizuno running shoes, picked it up, or chucked it as far as my small hands could manage. This led to me (and my family) being banned from numerous supermarkets for, as the local paper described it and I happen to think is actually quite accurate, ‘cabbage warfare’.
I am pretty sure I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking “calm down mate, cabbages don’t have a conscience! They don’t know what they are doing–you’re loosing it!” Well, maybe I am, but is that any reason to think that the cabbage is not in control of its own destiny. No, I am telling you this: if you stare a cabbage in the eye you will see that it does have a purpose, and that purpose is malevolent–
Category: General |