most vegetables are just different kinds of broccoli
Explain
broccoli, cabbage, kohlrabi, kale, brussel sprouts, collard greens, savoy, and cauliflower are all the same species of plant, Brassica oleracea
most veggies is the same
But wait, there’s more!
Brassical oleracea, cabbage and so on, hybridizes with B. rapa, turnip and Chinese cabbage, to make B. napus, rutabaga and rapeseed. It also hybridizes with B. nigra, black mustard, to form B. carinata, Ethiopian mustard. And B. rapa and B. nigra hybridize together to form B. juncea, Indian mustard.
Together these relationships make up the fantastic Triangle of U!
And why it it called the Triangle of U? Because of this awesome guy, botanist
Working in Japan in the 1930s and using his Japanized name of
U Nagaharu, he analyzed the evolutionary history of the six species through careful breeding techniques. “Woo made synthetic hybrids between the diploid and tetraploid species and examined how the chromosomes paired in the resulting triploids” (Wikipedia). This theory of hybrid origin, named the Triangle of U in his honor, has since been confirmed by genetic analysis.
If you set out to create every-which-way hybrids out of three congeneric species, and make sure that they were still all tasty, they would call you mad! Mad! But Woo proved that nature is even more of a mad scientist than a human could ever be.
Saw this post about straight dudes feeling emasculated at the thought of taking their wife’s last name, and it gave me a sudden craving for fantasy media where some dude is called Leopold THE DESTROYER or some shit and there are all these rumors going around about how he got his moniker, all these made up stories about how he must have razed a village to the ground or slayed 12 dragons or some shit and it turns out he just took his wife’s last name.
It was a quiet night at the local tavern, when suddenly the bar door was kicked in.
Three well-armed thugs swaggered in, their clothes filthy from sleeping rough on the road, their fingers caressing the hilts of their swords.
“Where is Leopold Destroyer?” the broadest of the thugs demanded into the sudden hush. “I would have words with him!”
The bar was suddenly full of whispered exclamations.
A short man with a lute slung over his back on a strap jumped to his feet from where he had been enjoying a quiet drink near the fire. This movement placed his feet upon the ground, as they had been dangling as he sat on his high stool.
“I am he,” he said, eyeing the thugs a little warily. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
The tallest of the thugs gaped. “What? You? I don’t believe it.”
Leopold straightened. “Are you calling me a liar sir? My name is Leopold Destroyer. Ask any here who know me.”
“Aye,” one of the ladies behind the bar spoke up. “That’s Leo alright. I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“Yep, he’s telling the truth,” an old man carrying a shepherd’s crook agreed. “Unless I’ve gone blind from the rotgut they serve here,” (the bartenders hissed at him in affront at this slight to their grog), “that’s definitely young Leopold.”
The thinnest of the thugs bared his yellowing teeth in a sneer. “This man? This is Leopold Destroyer?”
“Yes,” came the answered chorus.
“Leopold Destroyer who killed Grant Ogrethorpe, the mightiest bandit leader the East Coast has ever seen? Who stood against twenty of his best followers and cut them down like sugar cane? Who defeated the Troll of Rogan’s Bridge?” he shook his head. “I don’t believe you. This tiny man, able to do all that? Hah, don’t make me laugh,” he scoffed.
Leopold’s shoulders slumped a little in relief.
“Oh!” he said, as though enlightened. “Oh you’re not looking for me at all, I’m not the one who did all that.” He grinned. “I’m just a simple bard. Your sources must have gotten confused.”
The tallest thug scratched his head. “Then who did?Someone killed Grant and all his people.”
“That would be me,” came a soft alto voice from the other side of the bar.
A tall woman with a wicked-looking scar on one cheek thumped down her beer stein and stood, drawing a longsword.
“I’m Leila Destroyer. Let’s leave my husband out of this and take it outside.”
my first attempt at woodburning
I would like to thank dril for the inspiration
I can’t wait to live in a future where this quote is as ubiquitous and misattributed and misunderstood as many classic Shakespearean lines and other historical quotes. I’m genuinely looking forward to that.
Next time antis are being, well, antis, show them this:
…I discovered – to my great surprise and delight – that Judaism not only permits questions, it sometimes even requires them. It happened during a study session with my rabbi, a pious and solemn soul. I was answering question after question that he posed me, as I had done each week for nearly a year. Suddenly he posed a problem to which I could not respond.
“Don’t you know the answer?” He asked.
“I know the answer,” I finally replied, “but I do not agree with it.”
This ever stern rabbi underwent a total transformation. Elated, he rose from his desk and, with his eyes shining and his voice booming, banged his fist upon the table. “Baruch Hashem!” He shouted. “Bless the Lord! You are finally thinking like a Jew!”
Your People, My People: How to Find Acceptance and Fullfiment as a Jew By Choice – Lena Romanoff with Lisa Hostein. Preface. (via keshetchai)
just moving along like everyone else 