Well, my grandchildren, it all began many years ago with that AOC woman. She got herself elected back when Trump was president. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. She mounted an attack on cauliflower. Called it a colonial-type vegetable. Reckoned it was racist, and all that.
I forgot. You lil’ ones don’t know what cauliflower is, do you? Now that it’s extinct. Well, it looked like snow white brains. Wasn’t bad, as vegetables go. But she said we had to kill it off. To be politically kee-rect.
As you know, she gained more and more power. She gained allies. Together, they got the EPA and the Ag Department to get rid of it. Raided cauliflower fields in the dead of night, they did. Banned it in restaurants. Burned down seed warehouses.
This AOC woman and her allies, they attacked one vegetable after another. Watermelons were too racist. They had to go. Brussel sprouts and radishes and Kiwi fruit, well they reminded women of male apparatus. So they had to be banned. They was sexist. Same thing happened to zucchini.
Bananas, they was racist, of course. Broccoli was too, ‘cause it looked too much like afro hair styles. Peppers, they was too anti-Hispanic ‘cause it was them that used to have to pick ‘em.
It was tremulous days, I’ll tell ya, lil’ ones. We all remember that awful night – the Germans called it Celerynacht. Armies of AOC henchmen went house to house, field to field to wipe out celery overnight. I can’t recall what they had against celery, but it had to go.
I kept writin’ letters to Washington. Git rid of the damned parsnip, would ya! That’s what I wrote. And them rutabagas. Ain’t no earthly use for rutabagas. Turnips come in a pretty close second. And kale. Who the hell wants more kale?
I was tryin’ to distract them. Keep em’ from goin after sweet corn and ‘taters. I guess they heard me. Put them at the end of the list, but they finally torched them. But by then they’d killed off all the others.
It was a sad day when the punkins was polished off, I gotta tell ya. Y’see, they had some religious connection, goin’ way back.
Meanwhile, they slaughtered all the cows and beefers ‘cause of their fartin’. The sheep ‘cause they was followers and cowardly. And they had religious connections too. Lamb of God and whatnot.
And they wiped out the goats because of ageism. You know, old goats and all that. Chickens because of inhumane living conditions. Pigs ‘cause they was pigs. The religions that got real large didn’t like pigs.
Well, grandkiddies, after a while they wasn’t much left. Nosir. Between the sexism and the racism and the atheism and the colonialism and the slavery-ism… And don’t forget the Native American-ism and the LBQGTFSM-ism. Between all them isms, why, as I say, they wasn’t nuthin’ much left to eat.
Some of us ate bark for a while. But the tree huggers put an end to that.
To make a long story short, this is why our diets these days is mostly schlub. As you well know. That was a name generated by that artificial intelligence. They figured a name like schlub wouldn’t offend nobody. And nobody can figure out what it’s made out of. So it’s pretty safe.
We used to have black schlub and brown schlub and yellow schlub. Those were the good ol’ days when we had variety. But they was found to be offensive to different races. So these days we’re down to grey schlub. And green schlub. Which is what grey schlub looks like if you leave it in the fridge too long. Ha, ha! That’s a joke, lil’ ones.
Anyway, we are now politically correct with our grub. And there’s no need to cook schlub. ‘Cause cookin’ it would release CO2 or somethin’ into the atmosphere. Can’t have that, y’know.’Twould screw up the climate. As you know, the world is gonna snuff it in twelve years. It’s been that way for seventy years now.
Schlub or no schlub, we’re gonna cop it. So says that AOC woman. She’s a hundred years old now. Never stops her yappin’. I reckon she’s the queen of schlub.
By the way, schlub binds you right up, y’know. Yup. Just another way to cut down on our gaseous eruptions.
So, grandchildren, eat yer schlub. Clean up yer plates for Grandpa. And drink yer schlug.
What’s that? What’s fer dessert? You don’t wanna know, lil’ ones. You don’t wanna know.
From Tom…as in Morgan.
Find Tom on Facebook. You can write to Tom at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com.