Well, my grandchildren, it all began many years ago with Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (AOC). She got herself elected back when Donald Trump was president. AOC mounted an attack on cauliflower. She said that growing cauliflower in community gardens is a “colonial approach” and the reason communities of color oppose environmentalist movements.

I forgot. You lil’ ones don’t know what cauliflower is, do you? Now that it’s extinct. Well, it looked like snow-white brains. Wasn’t bad, as vegetables go. But AOC said we had to kill it off — to be politically correct.

As you know, she gained more power and allies over time. Together, they got the EPA and the Agriculture Department to get rid of cauliflower. Raided cauliflower fields in the dead of night, they did. Banned it at restaurants. Burned down seed warehouses.

AOC and her allies attacked one vegetable after another. Watermelons were too racist. They had to go. Brussels sprouts and radishes and Kiwi fruit, well they reminded women of male apparatus. So, they had to be banned. They were sexist. Same thing happened to zucchini. Bananas, they were racist, of course, and also had to go.

Those were tumultuous days I’ll tell you, lil’ ones. We all remember that awful night — the Germans called it “Celerynacht” — where armies of AOC henchmen went house to house, field to field to wipe out celery overnight. I can’t recall what they had against celery, but it had to go.

It was a sad day when the pumpkins were polished off, I gotta tell you. You see, they had some religious connection, going way back.

Meanwhile, they slaughtered all the cows and cattle because of their farting. The sheep because they were followers and cowardly and had religious connections too (Lamb of God and whatnot.).

And they wiped out the goats because of ageism. You know, old goats and all that. Bye-bye went chickens because of inhumane living conditions. Adios pigs because they were pigs. The religions that got really large didn’t like pigs.

Well, grandkids, after a while there wasn’t much left. Between the sexism and the racism and the atheism and the colonialism, there weren’t many foods left to eat.

Some of us ate bark for a while. But the tree huggers put an end to that.

To make a long story short, this is why our diets these days are mostly schlub — as you well know. That was a name generated by artificial intelligence. They figured a name like schlub wouldn’t offend anyone. And nobody can figure out what it’s made out of, so it’s pretty safe.

We used to have black schlub and brown schlub and yellow schlub. Those were the good ole days when we had variety. But they were found to be offensive to different races. So, these days we’re down to grey schlub and green schlub. Which is what grey schlub looks like if you leave it in the fridge too long. Ha, ha! That’s a joke, lil’ ones.

Anyway, we are now politically correct with our grub. And there’s no need to cook schlub. Because cooking it would release CO2 or something into the atmosphere. Can’t have that, you know — it would screw up the climate. As you know, the world will be snuffed out in 12 years. It’s been that way for 70 years now.

Schlub or no schlub, we’re gonna cop it. So says AOC. She’s 100 years old now. Never stops her yapping. I reckon she’s the queen of schlub.

So, grandchildren, eat your schlub. Clean up your plates for Grandpa. And drink your schlug.

From Tom…as in Morgan.         

Tom Morgan writes about political, financial, and other subjects from his home in upstate New York. Contact him at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com, read more of his writing at tomasinmorgan.com, or find him on Facebook.

I’m lucky enough these days to be in regular touch with young people — students — who are interested in public service. I find hope in their quality, energy, and motivation, and they press me to think more deeply about what it takes to pursue a life in the public realm.

In trying to answer that question, I’ve come to believe that at the heart of it all — indeed, at the heart of representative democracy itself — is persuasion. If you’re trying to improve society you have to persuade other people: about issues, facts, proposals, legislation, strategy, tactics, and more. In fact, the only way to get things done is to convince other people to join in. If we can’t persuade them, we can’t move forward.

I was seated once in a private airport terminal, waiting for a plane to fly me home to Indiana. Someone walked in, and I looked up to find Martin Luther King, Jr. He was alone. This was a bit before the peak of his celebrity, but most Americans would have recognized him even then. We chatted for a long time as we waited. One of the things that struck me most deeply was that he was a minister of the gospel and a civil-rights leader, while I was a politician — and yet we shared a deep and abiding interest in the question of how you persuade people to your side.

I saw the same quality in another masterful public figure, Lyndon Baines Johnson (LBJ). Not only was he a remarkably persuasive politician himself — he always had on his mind, “What do I have to do by word or by deed to get your support?” — but he was a student of how effective or ineffective others were.

From time to time, LBJ would have members of his cabinet speak to a group of assembled members of Congress, sometimes just a small group of us, sometimes a large roomful. He would take a seat in the front row, turn his chair around so that his back was to the speaker, and look out over the room. It was clear he wasn’t interested in what the speaker was saying; he was interested in the impact of what the person said. In other words, LBJ was interested in whether or not the speaker was persuasive.

In a democracy like ours, you need help from allies, partners, friends, sometimes even antagonists — because you’re trying to find common ground on a particular issue and build coalitions of support. This means that you have to convince others to do something for your benefit, which is difficult. Your chances are best when you can convince them that it’s in their best interest.

To do so, you have to listen carefully, learn what’s important to them, and appeal to their values and interests. You also have to gain their trust, because if they think you’re a liar, you’re not going to persuade them to your side.

This, in turn, requires several things. Above all, you have to know what you’re talking about and master the facts. You need to study the issue at hand, so that you’re familiar with the arguments on all sides; being well-informed boosts your credibility.

And I was struck, when I was in Congress, by the tactics that members used to appeal to people who often had different backgrounds, priorities and perspectives. They mentioned precedents, sought to connect to their listeners’ core values, compared their proposals to the alternatives, cited experts, and knew how much public support or major interest-group support they had.

This is how we decide things in this country: we listen, we argue, we cajole, we compromise, and we persuade. The whole process can get untidy, and it’s tough work in today’s polarized, hyper-partisan environment.

But as we continue to try to answer Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 question — whether a nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure — here’s what I tell the students thinking of going into public service: that it is an extraordinary privilege to be part of a system, representative democracy, that gives you the opportunity to persuade others, and by doing so to chart the future course.               

Lee Hamilton is a senior advisor for the Indiana University (IU) Center on Representative Government, distinguished scholar at the IU School of Global and International Studies, and professor of practice at the IU School of Public and Environmental Affairs. Hamilton, a Democrat, was a member of the U.S. House of Representatives for 34 years, representing a district in south central Indiana.