In his comedy “The Taming of the Shrew,” William Shakespeare created one of his many now commonly used phrases: “I have been in such a pickle.”

The name of the main character in Nickelodeon’s perhaps most beloved show, “The Rugrats” was Tommy Pickle.

The mythical Christmas Pickle gives a year of good fortune and a special present to the lucky child who finds it among the other ornaments on the tree.

Cleopatra blamed her beauty on pickles.

Kool-Aid Pickles are apparently delicious, and children love them.

Pickles are a major part of the world. Everyone loves pickles. Or at least has a vague feeling of “meh” towards them. Then there are always the people who consider them cucumbers soaked in evil. But for most of the population, pickles are tiny, warty oblong-shaped pieces of vinegar-soaked heaven. A pure indulgence, some might say.

Yes, pickles are loved much by the entire world and possibly the universe. Pickles are to sandwiches what Nicholas Sparks’ novels are to guys who have no idea what to get the girls in their life. A perfect match. They are tart and sweet, the perfect snack for pregnant women when covered in peanut butter. When they are generally spiced with garlic, they keep away vampires, or they can be used in a pinch for a last-minute senior prank. But pickles, like everything else, have a dark side. Sometimes, pickles revolt.

“You shall not eat us!” they cry, and proceed to fall from your burger piping hot, leaving a trail of mustard and ketchup and juices all the way down you nicest shirt. Or perhaps you were eating it cold, straight from the jar, when the rebellious little cucumber slips from your hand, squirting you in the eye with its acidic juice as it escapes across your slick kitchen floor.

Pickles, like duct tape and the Force, keep the universe together. They unite peoples of all ages and races, inviting them to take a bite and crunch down. So do yourself a favor; go home and enjoy one of the world’s best creations.