There’s No Such Thing as Brussels Sprouts

There’s no such thing as Brussels sprouts.

I know what you’ve been told and it’s just not so.  

You can take a moment to process that now.

Don’t tell me, let me guess: Now that you think about it, you’ve never actually seen a Brussels sprout, but you heard about them somewhere, sometime. And you don’t remember where or when that was, but you belie-e-e-eve-

Yeah. I know. There’s no such thing, baby. Brussels sprouts don’t exist.

I learned this from people I know. From people whom I trust. From people with the inside line to inside information that you and the rest of the world never ever get to see. I’ve been looking for this kind of people all my life.

And these people I am talking about, you see, they know. These people saw the memo. Hell, these people wrote the memo and then delivered the memo, too. These people are bike messengers, and Brussels sprouts, well, that was a practical joke made up on a Thursday afternoon when business was slow and everyone was getting high.

I know this because I am a bike messenger. Part-time, is all. Just for now, and just enough to cover internet and a hefty book addiction for the time being.

Esoterica for Everyone!

Sometimes I wish I had some sort of secret knowledge to share.

To share with the world, maybe, or maybe just to share with you. Probably just with you, actually, now that I think about it. You would be more than enough.

The Universal Brotherhood of the Experts on Everything

They say a lot of things, and one of the things they say is that there exists a species of hominid known as The Expert. Maybe it’s more of a tribe, really. An eternal secret society.

I picture them now – The Experts, I mean – standing around somewhere, experting. They’re wearing woolen hoods. Dark, woolen robes. The robes are tied at the waist with long golden ropes. You can’t see their faces, and if you did see their faces, you’d probably turn to stone for all the wisdom coming at you. And the eyes, the eyes sparkle with the knowledge that is full to bursting in the space behind them.

There might be nimbuses involved.  

These Experts, we don’t ever really see them, of course. You don’t and I don’t, that is. It’s probably because we don’t hang out in the right places – we don’t hang out in ivory towers, on mountain tops, or wherever it is The Expertsin those aforementioned long, dark woolen robes, with their hidden eyes, wherever it is they all hang out.

Would you… could you… ever deign to join their ranks?