Early one Tuesday morning, the Misprint staff decided to look for lunch in the cesspool that is the SLC food court. The Arts and Life editor, following closely behind the Opinions editor as they veered away from the rest of the group, was desperately trying to think of a witty remark to rebut an argument that the latter was clearly winning. It was at this moment that the two editors passed Pizza Pizza and noticed the large, unwavering, fluorescent poster board showcasing a towering head of lettuce. At once, the Arts editor, in a visceral haze, regurgitated her breakfast, only barely missing the Opinions editor’s shiny shoes. They stared intensely, and all at once, began incoherently screaming at each other. Once security had separated them, they were escorted back to the Misprint office, where the Managing editor asked that, instead of engaging in verbal bloodshed, they each politely write their ideas in a formal manifesto format. Misprint found both bloody manifestos on the ground in the lower atrium. In honour of our two missing editors, we share these manifestos here today.
Opinions Editor: My green brothers and sisters: I come to you today with a sentiment that I believe is almost universally shared across the land, whose opponents are, to quote our great prime minister, a fringe minority. Unfortunately, however, they are a very loud bunch, filled with spite and fear of the balancing power of lettuce. You see, the art of the sandwich is not fully complete without a layer of crisp, sweet, watery green to counteract stronger tastes that altogether would never quite combine without lettuce’s expert facilitation. Oh, what a feeling it is when the droplets of water sprinkle out onto the roof of the mouth, hydrating the body as the hefty ingredients reach the throat, ready for the sensation to kick in. A testament to the lettuce’s greatness is epitomized in combination with the tomato; on its own, the tomato is a juicy, sometimes soggy vegetable with a bitter, sour taste. As soon as lettuce is inserted — voila! — the tomato becomes a prime ingredient, giving the sandwich the juice that it needs, without being too aggressive. The dreaded Arts editor, who has no life whatsoever, may try to tell you that lettuce is somehow unhealthy and calorie-ridden. However, this green is a perfect complimentary food, and fairly harmless in moderation. Simply put, the green goddess that is lettuce, analogous to the blended nature of the shade of white on a colour palette, is a masterclass in the art of bringing together otherwise dissonant elements into one, coherent taste.
Arts Editor: Dear readers, I write to you all regarding a matter of great urgency: the right to go against the grain and not like lettuce. For years now, I have borne the weight of ridicule from both friends and foes alike,who will have you believe that those of us who question lettuce’s role atop the vegetable hierarchy are merely a “fringe voice” that will eventually sit down, shut up, and surrender to the status quo (they used to say the same about feminists). Fringe voices are a crucial cornerstone of any honest discourse and equitable world. It saddens me that with other vegetables, such as onion and broccoli, there is a far wider accepted spectrum of opinion, whereas for lettuce, everyone starts clutching their pearls the second I or others dare question its validity.
We must ask ourselves why lettuce is so unnecessarily ubiquitous. When I order a salad, sandwich, wrap, or burrito bowl, my food will often come with lettuce — even after I specifically request that my food be free of the pseudo-vegetable leaf that turns my stomach at mere thought. Not to mention that darker leafy greens contain more antioxidants than lettuce. Spinach, for example, has more vitamin C, magnesium, vitamin K, iron, and calcium than romaine lettuce, which is one of the healthiest forms. Lettuce is not your body’s friend, and it only carries the deceptive veneer of health. The Opinions Editor might argue that lettuce is harmless as it’s mostly water, but if you would like to boost your hydration, there’s a simple solution that requires no loathsome lettuce whatsoever: it’s called drinking water.