A genuine question, this: does anyone else carve out turnips instead of pumpkins for Halloween?
In my youth, I remember legions of anthropomorphic pumpkins polluting the neighbourhood, while our domicile played home to the patently inferior yellow vegetable. Rather than allow him the pain of isolation, I did as any loving parent would and committed him to the oven, where he became a fine accompaniment to some roast potatoes.
“Eugh—you eat turnip!?” spewed my various childhood nemeses. “That’s what pigs eat!” Here’s a picture of Kirby looking happy in an Egyptian scroll.
Posted on Wednesday September 29th
About me
I'm Jack. Sometimes my hair is untidy, riddled with goblins and smurfs. When I scream into the Grand Canyon, it inspires pained howling in wild dogs and wily coyotes, and compels all leaf-eating mammals to scuttle for higher ground in wait of the great flood. I think Goku is an existential paragon. My life's trajectory is adjusted towards becoming a hermit and dying alone somewhere on top of a golden mountain at sunset. Which is a jolly good innings, all told.
