Wednesday, June 16, 2010


Potatoes really love each other. Avoiding that whole homohetero thing, they get way intererotic when left alone in the dark, as I discovered even further than before when I opened my garden toolshed this morning and found the remaining unused half-bag of potatoes (I had nowhere to plant them) locked in flagrante delicto maximo. What's more, they weren't the least embarrassed, which is one of the benefits of being a vegetable; everything is 100% natural. Unless you get your potatoes from Monsanto-- they can probably blush.

Anyway, vegetables in general, despite their laid-back attitude, are a lot more passionate than we ever give them credit for; in fact, eros is the word, as far as they're concerned; it's their very reason for being. Not for nothing was the lascivious tomato called the "love apple" during insanely holy times, and in its flagrant prurience thought to be a deadly poison. Thus do we pull the wool over our own eyes; but upon opening the toolshed did I turn away in righteous disgust? Heck no.

Thankfully, we of today live in more enlightened times. Though many vegetophobes are still loathe to encounter vegetable acts in daily life, such individuals can get help; the barrier is lowering with each generation. As higher beings, we must learn to be more tolerant of the passions of nature-- in vegetables as in ourselves.

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