It appears the people who have read the blog and followed the directions do in fact like BRUSSEL SPROUTS.  Even had a reference to Choko’s.

So what I think is this:

  • there are either some people too afraid to say it in public that they don’t like them because of the back lash of everyone who has said they do like them.
  • there are people who do like them, but are too afraid to declare it because of what you might be asked to do once you declare you like them.
  • there are people who don’t like to play along.
  • there are helpful people who will not only admit to liking them, but offer more information on how to cook them and the best way to enjoy them.
  • there are people who will eat them, but given a choice wouldn’t buy them or order them if they were at a restaurant.

Right, so this is where the poignant message comes in.

If someone eats Brussel Sprouts or doesn’t eat them, it’s irrelevant.  Does it make them a crap person, does it make them different to the person beside them that has opposing views to Brussel Sprouts?

No. It just means they like Brussel Sprouts or they don’t. The End.

Hands up if you get the message I am trying to state here in the bigger picture that is life?

No… well let me get specific.

Please don’t tell me I’m wired wrong.  Please don’t tell me that I am one of a kind that can look at another human and just think they are another human? I just can’t be…. my mate Eminem is just like me but without the girl or boy thing.

I had a chap once tell me in his very first interaction with me that he was gay and I remember thinking why did you have to qualify that with me on our first meeting?  I suspect given the bigotry that he may have suffered in his lifetime he was letting me know straight up so he could give me the opportunity to reject his friendship early in the piece? I’m not sure.

So on the other side of the coin, I’m not likely to be a person that walks around saying I’m a proud heterosexual.  I guess it’s kinda the same as saying I’m proud to be a woman, you just categorise yourself when, unless you are competing in an Olympic event, or registering for a pap smear, it shouldn’t be relevant. (For relevance sake, I think I am lucky to be a woman, except for the inability to have wee-wees without having to find a large tree to hide behind when you are in a place with no suitable facilities.)

My wish for humanity is that your skin, your sexual orientation, your genda, your physique or your bank balance is as relevant as whether or not you like brussel sprouts or chokos for that matter.

Would you like some butter, pepper and salt with that?