Vegetable Wars

Memorandum to my word-processor -- I find myself eating my words quite regularly, as it is. Your assistance is not required.

To my fridge -- I understand your ambition. It's human nature to aspire to greater things. However, I'd like to make two points: first, you are a kitchen appliance, not a human being. Second, while some dreams are realistic, and may, with appropriate diligence, become reality, yours is not one of these. Just as I'll never take the stage at the Metropolitan Opera, you'll never be a freezer. Frosting my bread will not change this fact. Stop frosting my bread.

To my trousers -- You might've told me your seams were going. Failing that, you might at least have held on till I'd finished taking out the dust. Not to put too fine a point on it, a bum saw my bum.

To myself -- Now do you see the logic behind "Semper ubi sub ubi?"

Channel surfing in the wee hours, I came upon an odd spectacle: one man beating another with a head of bok choy. Beating him about the head, even. You know: "Joe's head, meet Head of Bok Choy. Head of Bok Choy...." Well, you get the idea. Because of the floppiness of the bok choy, that beating took a very long time. By the time it was over, the victim was slightly the worse for wear, but the bok choy was in a thousand pieces.

Now, not to criticise this guy's kung fu, or anything--but if it had been me, I'd've used a different vegetable. One of the following, perhaps:

THE TURNIP

Foul of taste and stringy of texture, the turnip is unfit for the discerning palate. Fortunately, it redeems itself in the military arena. Hard and heavy, with a convenient leafy top, the turnip makes a wonderful ball and chain. Tie one to a daikon radish, and you've got a flail. Or, if you'd rather pelt your opponent from afar, you can simply whirl your 'nip round your head a few times, then let it fly. I give the turnip an B+.

THE DAIKON

What the daikon radish lacks in density, it makes up in the rude and amusing shape department. Because of its naughty appearance, it is likely to cause incapacitating laughter. Once your enemy is overtaken with hysterics--well, imagine the possibilities! If, for example, your daikon has a particularly tapered tip, it may be possible to jam it up his nose. If it doesn't, there's always his ear. For its delightful combination of playfulness and brutality, I give the daikon an A.

THE LIMA BEAN

The lima bean doesn't look terribly threatening--unless, of course, one has a debilitating fear of thumbnails. It only comes into its own when paired with an oversized pea-shooter. A lima bean, owing to its greater weight, probably flies slightly farther than a pea, and hurts slightly more, to boot. However, its true strength lies in its revolting taste. Nobody likes a lima bean. All but the most passionate of rebellions can be quashed with the threat of bean paste. For its utility as a bargaining chip, I give the lima bean a B-.

THE WATER CHESTNUT

Water chestnuts are perfect for surprise attacks: because no-one's entirely sure what they are, the threat won't be recognised till it's too late. Then, once your intrepid chestnut has infiltrated enemy ranks, the fear of the unknown kicks in. Unfortunately, this vegetable is too light to do much damage, so unless it's hiding a turnip behind its back, that's all she wrote. I give the water chestnut a D.

THE CELERY

Let me return to the turnip, for a moment. It hurts, getting smacked upside the head with a root. Then, there's the humiliation factor: Fight Club just wouldn't have been the same if they'd been trouncing each other with produce. For these reasons, people will generally do all they can to avoid being beaned with any sort of bloated taproot vegetable. This is where the celery comes in. The celery's your wingman, providing a distraction while you steam in for the kill. How does it do this? Well, celery is a rather stringy vegetable. It gets between your teeth. It's very annoying. It's easy to miss a swinging turnip, when you're tonguing away at a celery-string.

Alternatively, if your vegetable assault is premeditated, and you don't mind folks knowing it, you could always braid those strings into a garrote. (You should still bring a turnip, though: it probably won't work.)

Celery loses points for being more or less ineffective on its own, but gains 'em back for sheer obnoxiousness. Final analysis: C+.

THE GUY WITH MASSIVE BRAIN DAMAGE

Unless you're possessed of remarkable upper-body strength, this guy won't prove terribly effective as, say, a club. However, if you like to fight your battles in a more political arena, he can be positively devastating. Joe Rutabaga gets an A. (I, on the other hand, get an F. How perfectly tasteless!)