asparagus raze spare a thought for this verdant spear of stout-stemmed sparrow grass — lover of salty soil, staunch tomato supporter, carrier of chromium and magnesium, and harvester of smelly pee for five millennia (give or take a minute). 220412 ... ovenbird “Do you like asparagus?” the babysitter asked. And my brother said yes. He said he loved asparagus. What he had heard was “spare ribs” so when sulphurous spears appeared where he expected tender bones and barbeque sauce, he was more than a little taken aback. He refused to eat them. And the babysitter refused to let him leave the table until he had choked down what he claimed to love. She said, “put ketchup on them. They’ll taste just like french fries,” which was obviously a lie. I sat across the table while my brother glared at his plate and cried. He sat there after everyone else had gone. He sat there until our mother came to get us. I remember the babysitter’s face, how resolute and cold, how determined she was to force him to swallow the repercussions of his innocent mistake. 260312 what's it to you? who go blather from