We potatoes and humans really aren’t that different.
Think about it. We both start off safe and cozy in a dark place, without a care in the world, before we’re torn kicking and screaming into the real world by some big ugly jerk. In your case, it was a doctor or nurse. In my case, it was a farmer. A huge, fat farmer who smells like manure. To be honest, I smelled like manure, because he kept pouring it on me. All you humans smell bad, I’m afraid. In fact, you have many flaws I won’t go into, because I don’t want to intimidate you. I have been told that I can intimidate people, but I’ll just resign myself to saying that I smell great. But in order to do that, you’ll have to scrub me and wash me until I’m squeaky clean. Then you can put me in Bubble n’ Squeak.
That’s not my only use, though. I’m like one of those job applicant in the welfare office saying they’ll ‘do anything’. I literally will do anything for you. I’ll be your potato salad. I’ll even be your French fry.
In conclusion, I give the Potato a total score of 45 thumbs up.
But since I’m reviewing myself, I guess there’s a bit of conflict of interest. So I guess I should bring in an outside voice into the equation.
So in regards to potatoes, I guess Marge Simpson really says it all: