Many of you may remember last year’s satirical column, The Brussels Sprout. Cole Miska was the writer of this column, and we at The Spur couldn’t have asked for a better satire writer.

But, he needed to take a lesson from Elsa and let it go.

Cole was an all-around good guy. He was open, friendly, willing to give you advice whenever you needed it.

Once, he told me that pickles are going to be the next superfood and to buy stocks in cucumbers now. (I’m still waiting for the stock market to realize how good cucumbers are for the economy).

Previously, Cole had, shall we say, disposed of the former satire columnist Daniel Kilkelly via Nerf gun and diploma.

I’d heard tales of this event from other staff members and decided that Cole deserved a better send-off.

So, one night in early May, Cole received a knock on his door.

He had received a bouquet of what looked like flowers.

Joke was on him because it was a bouquet of kale gently misted with the tears of those who have graduated—which, as we all know, is a powerful stimulant for the part of your brain that remembers song lyrics.

As Cole breathed in those tears, he fought the urge to gather all the Rick Astley lyrics that he could, like some perverse game of Pokémon.

I strode in to his place of living and shook his hand, enthusiastically congratulating him in song lyrics on graduating. Dazed and confused, Cole handed me his deed to the satire column.

My dream had come true. Now, only one thing remained: Getting rid of all traces of The Brussels Sprout from The Spur’s office.

Within a few hours, with the help of some hot sauce, The Brussels Sprout was gone.

And that, guys and gals and nonbinary pals, is why The Kale is in and The Brussels Sprout is out.