Tough love exists!

I was ear hustling in Wal-Mart the other day; it was such a bad idea. Ear hustling is so bad. It is especially bad for me because I always respond before I can catch myself. I'm one of those rude strangers who stops you in mid conversation: "He said WHAT?! Uh-uh girl..."
Anyway, I was ear hustling. I walked by this lady who was explaining how difficult it is to get her husband to change his diet. Poor idiot is dying for lack of vegetables and he thinks he can be picky. Anyway, apparently the man in question only likes his vegetables raw, he will not eat them mixed in with anything. And IF he agrees to eat them he must have them on the side of his main dish. This man is a goner. Not only does he want to die, but he also wants his food to taste bad. It is hard for me to decide which is the greater atrocity. When I heard this morsel I turned around and let my draw drop: "And you're listening to this bufoon! The man is KILLING himself, stuff vegetables down his flippin' throat! Serve nothing but vegetarian food with mixed in veggies up to the wazoo, and if he refuses to eat let him starve!" Okay, so I didn't actually say all that, but I thought it. I luckily turned around after letting my mouth hang open for a bit and shut it.
But seriously, when did it become okay to listen to idiots? Dude is killing himself because he eats like a two year old. Man needs a punch in the face and veggies shoved in his veins - end of story. Seriously, she who cooks makes the rules. If you don't want to eat it then suck it.
This is the policy in my home, I might listen to you when you suggest that we eat blabbity blab but really it comes down to whether or not I think it meets your needs. If all you wanted was cheese pizza everyday, and you expected me to get fat and miserable along with you then I'm afraid not.
I say the cooks need to take a stand. Don't cater to everyone! Sure, make good stuff and make stuff people like. But you can't make everyone happy; especially if that everyone is on their way to death as a result of their own stubborness.
I am all about helping people, and I really love people in my kitchen regardless of their eating background. Everyone comes into my house. But if someone I love refused to eat vegetables upon pain of death, and expected me to cater to their stupidity, then you certainly wouldn't see me whining about it in Wal-Mart.

Dear lady in Wal-Mart, my name is Rachel and I was listening to your conversation. Tough love exists - use it to shove vegetables down Mr. Dude's idiotic throat.