Salad Wednesday is like a million sparrows, in that it looks like an indistinct cloud from a distance, and then as it starts to approach you say, "geez, that's a lot of sparrows," and then it's there in front of you, so beautiful and overwhelming, and you think from this day forward I am a new person who values pleasures of the soul, and for a while it's utterly groovy until you realize that this is far far too many sparrows, and you should get indoors immediately, and that this is a sign of the apocalypse or the apocalypse itself, or that even the apocalypse is just a cultural unit of meaning for when you have no other ways to describe one million sparrows or Salad Wednesday. Come for that, stay for the kale, linger for the debate over whether ice cream is a salad.



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