People can be exhaustively determined to prove me wrong.
If only they were so committed to ending world hunger, resolving Okotoks’ water problems or helping fix Paul Rockley’s slice they might be doing something worthwhile.
But no, they feel it is much more important to tell me I know absolutely nothing about what tastes good and, more importantly, what is good for me.
A few weeks ago I wrote a column about diet fads and how we often get enamored with these super foods like pomegranates, acai berries and human growth hormone. Things which are supposed to make us faster, stronger and see better providing us with the power to defeat the Sasquatch.
My column was about the latest super food, kale.
I admitted kale was quite popular when I was in high school, but as I mentioned it was a means to decorate the salad bar at Bonanza not as a side dish.
However, after publishing my tongue-in-cheek column, I was accosted on the street by what I believe is a mysterious undercover force of kale guardians known as the Green Army — and not the one who cheers loudly at the Okotoks Oilers games.
No, this was the green guard of a secret occult society who worships the Cultiver Group which includes the five Vegan gods of Broccoli, Cauliflower, Collard Greens, Kale and the feared leader Brussels Sprouts.
It is clear this secret cabbage society has brainwashed and enlisted many Okotokians into believing in the power of bile acid sequestrants.
Friends, heed this warning — the Green Army is now infiltrating our community and are trying to indoctrinate others with their devotion to sulforaphane and beta carotene.
They are relentless as they pontificate on the benefits of embracing the Cultiver Group. When we are fat, unhealthy and depressed they believe only by turning one’s self over to the likes of Cauliflower, Collard Greens and Kale with their dense nutrients and carotenoids can one find salvation — and a tight tummy.
It seems they are determined to convert me into a disciple of the Cultiver Group and they have been unrelenting in their quest to make me eat my words — and their coniferous kale.
The harassment has been merciless. If I stop by one of my favourite downtown lunch spots they are there whispering in my ear as I contemplate my order. I hear them humming like a swarm of bees, “Mmmmm, kale,” or “Can’t get enough lutein”.
I think they have even gotten to the restaurant owners — I know there has been extra broccoli and cauliflower in my war won ton and is that cabbage in my hamburger soup?
They are even haunting my dreams as comforting zzzzzs have been replaced with nightmares of not having enough zeaxanthin in my diet.
They have even gone so far as to have people knock on my door on a Sunday morning peddling their vegan propaganda dropping off things like the divine Canada’s Food Guide on my doorstep.
The tactics of the Green Army have become even more dirty as they try to convince me to bend the knee at the altar.
For instance, on Monday one of their leaders came by the office under the guise of offering me a homemade piece of banana loaf. Weakened by the smell of fresh baking, I invited her into my office where she subsequently put a box of salad on my desk.
It was an evil trick. With the promise of banana loaf I let my guard down and she found her way into my hippie food free sanctuary. Now I was faced with a bowl of kale, Brussels sprouts and avocado salad and a wrap of tomatoes and something called walnut pesto.
As she smiled ominously, I sat at my desk and opened the box of salad with its collection of vile vegan weeds.
I felt like Mikey from the Life cereal commercials. “Let’s give it to Mikey. He hates everything!”
With a crinkled nose I put the kale in my mouth. It is aptly described as roughage to be sure.
But you know what, it was not “He likes it! He likes it!”, but is was not too bad either. The avocado and brussels sprouts salad was especially delicious and the grapefruit was a tasty tangy touch.
I am not about to admit I was wrong, but kale certainly deserves a better position than on the side of the salad bar.
Now, you know what else is disgusting? Rib-eye steaks, medium rare. Boy, I sure hope no one starts bringing me steaks to prove me wrong.
