Lettuce PR team works overtime

Lettuce is awful. I see absolutely no appeal in eating crunchy water. If I wanted to have the most basic, flavourless, time consuming diet known to man, I’d kill myself and reincarnate as a rabbit.

You are eating nothing. You are crunching on air. The texture is terrible. The whole thing is pointless. Next time I eat lettuce, I hope it gives me E. Coli so I never have to eat it again.

Why is my burger crunching? Every other ingredient of a burger is soft. Chewy. Warm. Quiet. Why the fuck is my beautiful, intimate experience with my burger being interrupted by a chiropractic crunch.

Why are we throwing a few wilted leaves into a bowl, slapping on some overly processed dressing, and calling that a salad? I wouldn’t eat that on death row. If my options were salad or starve before the electric chair, I’d start eating the brick wall of my jail cell.

Lettuce is absolutely propaganda. From who? I don’t know. Maybe Bugs. Maybe Peter. Some fucking bunny trying to make themselves feel better about their life. It tastes like nothing. It always exists in excess. The lettuce to ingredient ratio in every salad is sickening. They put entire lily pads on my burger. Don’t even get me started on wedge salad. Why am I eating a leaf bowling ball? You can’t convince me people enjoy having their jaw work overtime to be the loudest one at the table. You are gnawing through a Salem’s autumn worth of leaves and everyone hears and hates you.

It’s a pain in the ass to eat. You look like a brontosaurus and I know you’re tasting absolutely nothing. Try some kale.