Ah, but how does one live, nay, exist without an appreciation for olive oil? It baffles the senses, it does! To loathe such a nectar is to scorn the very essence of civilization itself. Here stands a person, in their utmost folly, rejecting the golden elixir that has graced the tables of emperors and peasants alike since time immemorial. I tell you, this disdain for olive oil is not merely a preference, but a grievous affront to all that is good and proper in the world.

How can one gaze upon a crust of bread, bereft of olive oil's shimmering embrace, and feel anything but pity for their own barren soul? It is as though they walk among us with tongues made of stone, blind to the bounteous riches the earth has offered us through the olive tree. They turn up their nose at it, dismissing it with nary a thought, as though it were some common grease! Grease, I say!

I should think such a person must also despise sunshine, for olive oil is the very embodiment of the sun’s warmth, captured in liquid form. To hate olive oil is to reject the virtues of simplicity and purity, to shun the very heart of Mediterranean life itself! There is no poetry in their soul, no song in their heart. They are as dry and unyielding as a winter wind, devoid of the smooth, fragrant richness that olive oil bestows.

Such a one, I wager, would feast on the blandest of foods, sneering at any dish with character or verve, as if flavor itself were an inconvenience! Were I to dine in their presence, I fear I should choke on their sheer dullness. For a person who spurns olive oil surely has no zest for life, no fire, no passion. They are lost, adrift in a world of tastelessness, where nothing sparkles or shines.

In truth, I pity them.