Conflict Resolution
With a regularity enough to drive one to tears at their tedious predictability, certain phenomena rear their ugly heads time and time and, oh, God, time again.
Media panic about satanic cults and rock music, videonasties, the corrupting influence of video games … marital disputes about the state of the toilet seat, whose turn it is, who does the most work around here anyway, who gave who herpes … fashionably ripped jeans
… you get the idea.
One ‘perennial’ such is the utterly (ha!) fruitless bickering over the presence of pineapple on pizza,
Every few years, as a new bunch of eighteen-year-olds attain the age of (double ‘ha!’) ‘maturity’ … and can finally move out, pay their own rent and choose to eat whatever f*cking thing they like, but whilst they’re living under my roof and not paying the bills, they’ll eat what they’re given and be grateful for it … and think they’re the first to discover that there are people in the world who (don’t) like pizza on their pineapple … and there are endless opinion pieces, social media storms, Q&A sessions with famous practitioners of the culinary arts, endless nonsense written about it that drives the rest of the World to, once again find a hobby that will allow it to spend more time with itself, the next door neighbour ¹ or the yoga/tennis instructor, darkly muttering, on its way out the door, about how they don’t know they’re born, should get their hair cut, join the bloody army and have their voting tights suspended until at least the age of forty-f*cking-five! ²
However …
In a ‘world first’ breakthrough … thanks to an earlier discussion with (that reprobate) Roy … I think I may have finally come up with a solution for this latter mind-numbingly, soul-sappingly, spirit-crushingly vapid contretemps about nothing
… namely: It puts. The pineapple. On its pizza … or … It. Gets. The. Hose!
There now … problem solved: everybody has pineapple on their pizza and nobody need mention it ever again.
(I should probably work for the UN or something).
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¹ https://whereangelsfeartotread.medium.com/old-wives-tales-5e516791b9a
² I’m also training my dog to savage anyone who utters the words ‘lecture’, ‘tutorial’, ‘essay’ or ‘dissertation’.
