Why?:Eat your broccoli

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C'mon, big boy. Don't you wanna eat me?

Ah, broccoli. If ever there were a more disgusting food, I don't know of it. Seriously. It looks like something that came into existence when a Japanese bonsai tree met a slime mold at a bar on a Tuesday afternoon and told her he still had his brother-in-law's van for three more hours, and would she like to come see how the back seat folds down?

Yet, despite its total lack of redeeming qualities, people in your life will tell you to eat it. These people will always be female. If a man tells you to eat your broccoli, grip his face right below the hairline and give it a hard tug. His rubber mask will come off, and you will see that he's actually Mrs. Withers, the old lady who runs the local green grocers.

When these women tell you to eat your broccoli, your reaction will invariably be to ask them: Why? Women have exactly five canned responses to this question. Fortunately, this article is here to help you understand the obvious flaws in these responses and to formulate airtight rebuttals.

The "reasons" women will give you to eat your broccoli

It will make you strong.

Women will sometimes tell you that if you eat your broccoli, it will make you strong. This is a fucking lie. Pick up a copy of Muscle & Fitness next time you're at the store, and it will tell you what really makes you strong: protein. Fish make you strong. Beef jerky makes you strong. Beer makes you mighty. Broccoli will turn you into a 90-pound pantywaist hippie who writes folk songs about how your vegan diet lets you see other people's auras.

A good rebuttal to this claim is: Okay, tell you what. I'll eat this cheeseburger, and you eat my broccoli, and then let's armwrestle. Unless you are ten years old and/or the woman in question is Laila Ali, this response should shut her up long enough for you to scarf the burger down and make your escape.

It will put hair on your chest.

Let's be real here. Which one of these men would you rather look like?

This is one of the most perplexing reasons sometimes given for broccoli consumptions. First of all, it's another fucking lie. Unless the broccoli is soaked in Rogaine and you're smearing it all over yourself, it will have absolutely no effect on your hair follicles.

More importantly, why would you want a hairy chest? Men spend millions of dollars every year on razors and wax to get the hair off their chests. Actively pursuing the "hairy chest" look is about as brilliant as actively pursuing the "morbidly obese" look.

When a woman makes this claim about broccoli, the best rebuttal is: Whoa! We'd better throw yours away, then!!" While she's digesting this, grab the nearest cheesecake and make for your computer desk.

It's good for you.

How do women get away with these lies? Broccoli is a plant. It's about as good for you as a mouthful of grass or a pine cone. Eating more than the tiniest quantity is guaranteed to give you explosive diarrhea. At best, eating broccoli is a complete waste of time, because it contains so few calories. With the time it takes to eat an entire meal of broccoli, you could have scarfed down a Hot Pocket and written the Great American Novel. Is it "good for you" to have to explain to your publisher that you don't have anything for him because you were too busy trying to survive by grazing, cow-like, on un-nutritious greens? Is it "good for you" to miss your rent payment, get evicted, and have to move into a lean-to under an overpass on Sixth Street? It is not.

Unfortunately, there is no good rebuttal to this claim. Sure, you could print out this article and show it to the woman in question, but most women have an odd immunity to logic and science. Upon being presented with the "it's good for you" answer, your best bet is to shout "Holy shit!! How did that bird get in the house?" and run in the other direction for one hour.

Because I'm your mother.

If all goes well, your clever sophistry will short-circuit your mother's brain just long enough for a little sleight of hand.

This is the most difficult argument to rebut. Unless the speaker is not your mother, the logic is unassailable: she is your mother.

This might be a good time to try some clever sophistry. Screw up your face into a look of agonized betrayal and scream, "You're not my real mother! I hate you and I wish I was never born!!"

If all goes well, this will shock her long enough for you to scrape your broccoli off your plate and into a potted plant, and then follow up with, "Never mind. I'm done!" One caveat, though: do not try to scrape your broccoli off your plate onto the floor for the dog to eat. Your dog DOES NOT WANT your broccoli.

It tastes good.

Whoa. Don't even bother offering a rebuttal to this one. Anyone who says this is clearly one of those vegan hippie tree-hugging god-hating terrorists that your Congressman has been warning you about. If a woman tells you that broccoli tastes good, politely excuse yourself from the table, sneak to a phone, and call the Department of Homeland Security. Yes, it will be a shame not to have her around to clean the bathroom and stuff, but you can rest easy knowing you've done a great service to your nation.


If all has gone well, you've managed to avoid eating your broccoli. Congratulations! You have now left the path of food-related misery and are well on your way to some food-related happiness. Celebrate with a beer. It's good for you.

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