PREVIOUSLY ON THE LEGENDARY PICKLED CUCUMBER DEBATE:
“Pickled what? Pickled cucumbers? Do you mean pickled cucumbers? I bet you mean pickled cucumbers.”
The debate between Nathan Badley and his wife would forever bring the plight of pickles to the forefront of modern history as we know it.
Mr Badley of The Life and Times of Nathan Badley said that pickles were just a name for the pickling process and referred to anything that has gone through said process. His wife’s argument was that pickled cucumbers are generally called just ‘pickles.’
I stumbled into the debate, young and innocent, not realising what a life changing moment it would be.
If someone has asked me if I want pickles, they’ve always meant cucumbers. Always!
It lead to a power struggle in Mr Badley’s gripping sequel, The Legendary Pickled Cucumber Debate II: The Quest for Peace:
In conclusion, I AM NEVER WRONG! Hahahahahahahahahaha!
I wasn’t going to respond to Mr Badley’s ramblings with my own ramblings. I was going to stealth troll his website every now and then with obnoxious yet witty comments, reminding him of my ever present presence.
But I feel this can’t go on anymore. The identities of pickles are at stake. They need a voice; they need a supporter, to protect them from the evil that intends to destroy their good name.
The first post that I wrote didn’t publish. After five long hours of toiling, my fingers aching from typing, and the only thing that published was the title. I broke down in tears and cried, but I knew that it was all a plot by the Anti-Pickles to stop me from publishing the Truth.
For cucumbers were the first things to be pickled 4000 years ago in India. They were the forerunners of the pickling empire, the pioneers. They sacrificed their lives and their families to become great, to bear the name of pickles proudly, knowing that they and they alone had achieved such greatness.
They became a staple, a life source for long sea journeys. Robinson Crusoe probably had a jar of pickles.
Julius Caesar, it should be noted, gave his men pickles because he believed it would help them physically and spiritually. Did Julius Caesar spend time arguing with his men about whether or not the pickles were cucumbers or turnips? Of course not.
Cleopatra was said to believe in that pickles made her beautiful. Yet she still clasped an asp to her breast and died. If only she had clasped a pickle to her breast, things would have turned out differently.
Yet Mr Badley, on his anti pickle pulpit, wants us to believe that the word pickle should define all things that go through a pickled process.
He tells the touching story of his young colleague, who loves everything fried and doesn’t realise that pickling is a process when it’s mentioned that his favourite fried food can be pickled too. Confusion reigns.
Of course he doesn’t understand the process of pickling! He is the lover of all things fried! It’s like asking a hand model to suddenly become an ear model. How do they know which side of their ear is the best?
For those of us who are more culinary-aware, we know that pickling is a process. But we also know that when someone refers to a pickle, odds are they’ll be referring to a cucumber. It’s common knowledge. Why rock the boat when the consensus is that pickles are by default cucumbers? This is why when you refer to other pickled goods, you specify.
Yet pickled cucumbers have earned the right to be called ‘Pickles’. They have fought long and hard.
Look at their faces and tell me that you wouldn’t deny them the right to an identity, the right to know that all they have ever known can continue to stay the same.
Look at those innocent little guys, swimming in their brine, salty and sour with a hint of sweetness, unaware of the evil in the world.
Would you send these guys to pickle purgatory?
But enough of this, hard evidence is needed and here it is, a trip to Wiki:
And then, Google confirms it:
Game, set and match.
Mr Badley, you raise some very good points. But good points do not win the argument and burying my head in the sand is a specialty.
Will you tell the people of Michigan, nay – the Grand Dillmeister himself, who has an annual parade to celebrate pickles, that their celebrations are false? Would you dare go against The Legend?
In the past 24 hours, the streets have been filled with angry pickles. The exclusive literary world is abuzz but they’re so exclusive, I can’t reveal who they are for privacy reasons. Winston Churchill even wrote a speech about something.
And today… today even Days of Our Lives featured the plight of the pickles, to raise awareness for pickles in need.
WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN??!
This cause is a cause worth fighting, if not for your own sake, then for the sake of your children and for your children’s children. Global warming might kill them eventually, but denying innocent pickles their rights will tear out their little hearts and make them cry.
Lastly, if you’re now confused as to what the point of this was then don’t worry. So am I. I forgot somewhere between hugging a pickle and wandering why I was googling Days of Our Lives.
I will continue to refer to pickled cucumbers as just Pickles. Sometimes, when I’m feeling fancy, I’ll refer to them as gherkins. I’ll even refer to them as ‘warty green things that look like naked, chubby, ugly cousins of the banana’ because they do.
Thank you, Nathan Badley for involving me in your debate. Thank you for powering me to the forefront of the blogging universe. I have stolen one of your followers as a result and that follower is you. I like to call it kidnapping, but for legal reasons I probably shouldn’t.
– Fin –
Or is it?
Dear Pickles World Wide,
For two days our battle was fought. For two days there was blood, sweat and tears. Families were ripped apart. Accusations flew through the air and when all hopes were lost, discarded to the briney bottom of the jar, there came fresh hope.
Hope in the form of a non-apology, an announced defeat from the Evil Pickle Overlord, Mr Nathan Badley in The Legendary Pickled Cucumber Debate III: The Final Frontier.
Some may say that he doesn’t know how to count further than three in Roman numerals. But I say it doesn’t matter:
Our quest Saving Private Pickles was a triumph! Common Good won, filling the hearts of pickles and children and good citizens worldwide with love.
Now, with faith and goodness restored to humanity, we can continue to live in peace. We can continue to delight in calling pickled cucumbers Pickles, just as our Indian forefathers intended.
When we go to sleep at night and wake up each morning, we can say with joy – nay, PRIDE, that we have earned Pickles the right to their identity.
– Fin –