Please read the copy for this ad, and don't forget to enjoy the phrase "a man's womenfolk".
Even more scandalous is this assemblage of words that don't make sense when placed next to each other: "tender, delicious peas". You can be a fan of peas (but I won't join you), but not of canned peas. All my life, I had never been able to choke the things down. Little, olive-colored bags of mush that popped in your mouth when you bit them, like stinky pimples, they were. Then, one day I tried frozen peas. The color was more green and less brown. They didn't smell like feet. Also, they tasted kind of like a plant, instead of a refinery. "Holy smokes! These are much less repulsive!" I gasped. When you stick a vegetable in a can, it turns into a mummy version of itself. Brown, shriveled, and preserved in a permanent state of being eight percent rotten.
It's possible that, so soon after the deprivations of World War 2, the English were glad to have food at all. But think about it this way. What did we fight a war for, if not to be free of the cruelty of canned peas?
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