their sandwich and you’re just eating it.
So again, if you really like that kind of mess in your food, I’m not one to stop you. Go live your best life.
But you can take the trouble to order it, not have it automatically provided for you at the expense of
others.
What do I mean? I mean I’ve spent the last several decades asking lazy, dead-eyed short-order clerks to
not put tomatoes on my sandwiches, only to have them ignore said requests because the vegetable
Stalinists will not tolerate dissent (And everyone about to chime in that technically tomatoes are fruit,
because their slimy spermatozoa are contained within their vile husks, congratulations on passing high
school biology. But properly socialized humans ignore this technicality for the common heuristic that
holds things of a sweet or tangy flavor to be fruits, while things savory and bitter to be vegetables.
Tomatoes, which taste like the rotting interior of a gangrenous wound, are therefore vegetables. No
one cares, nerds). I mean I’ve purchased cafeteria wraps whose nomenclature made no indication that
a tomato was hiding inside, about to bukkake into my mouth. Have you, tomato-lovers, ever had to
perform surgery on a wrap to make it palatable? Have you ever had to scrape quinoa off a husk of
tomato, and try to get the hummus and the lettuce to gel back together after you’ve gone spelunking
down the whole length of a spinach wrap to get rid of the thing you never ordered and had no reason
to suspect was there, like some barbarous 19th century surgeon trying to save the life of a lesser-
known gunshot President and only making the whole thing worse?
In point of fact, have you ever been inconvenienced by the lack of a tomato, ever? Is not a burger still a
burger, without such?
Next I imagine some of you will ask me about all the various culinary forms tomatoes appear in. Do I
hate Salsa? Do I hate pizza? Do I hate Spaghetti? DO I KNOW THAT HAS TOMATO IN IT? The answers to
these questions are no, no, no, and DUH-DOY. Now watch as I stagger your puny minds with the
paradox of how I can dislike something so intensely in its raw form and yet enjoy it when it has been