The Vegetarian Agenda

I've become acquainted with a few people over the years, and every once in awhile, those people will announce to me their adoption of a so-called healthy vegetarian diet.

The news generally hits me as follows:

What is said:

I'm a vegetarian.

What I hear:

I don't like food.

There's about as many reasons to become a vegetarian as there are vegetarians in the world, but in every case, it boils down to insanity.

Now I'm no militant carnivore; I don't eat meat every time I shovel food in my mouth. But afforded the opportunity, you'll never catch me turning down a thick, juicy steak, a hot cheeseburger, or a burrito filled with slaughtered buffalo.

And if veal's on the menu, you better believe that lovably fuzzy, defenseless infant cow is making a beeline for my esophagus. Serves that little twerp right for having such an adorably high-pitched moo.

With all of the wondrous textures and flavors available, how could any sane person just react to it wholesale with an ardent unh-uh?

No sane person does.

These are the same folks who spend years playing with tofu, trying to cook it with weird ingredients as an analogue to tasting delicious beef. Those dishes always end up tasting like feet.

You realize the hard work's already been done for you here, right? If you want to taste beef, get a hamburger.

A lot of people claim to admire vegetarians' willpower.

Wow, you haven't eaten any meat in six years? That's unbelievable. How do you do it? What's your secret?

The craziest of the crazies will reply to this reaction with how disgusted they are by the meat-processing industries and how cruel it is to the animals. Maybe they'll mention a vow they made to themselves stating that if a thing has a face they won't eat it. Then they'll throw in (with a condescending tone) that omnivores are addicted to meat.

First of all, if I wanted to watch the animals I eat die, I'd kill them myself. I just don't feel like waking up at 4:30 AM, putting on a Hunter's Orange jumpsuit and chasing cows all morning.

Secondly, if I had the resources, not only would I make sure everything I ever consumed had a face, but that this creature understood its fate; it was giving its life so that I may enjoy a few hours of the wonderful sensation I like to call "not-being-hungry". It's the best. Also, names of the animal in question and possibly those of its immediate family would be appreciated. And if it cried during the slaughter, use those salty tears to season the meat during preparation.

Thirdly, I don't need vegetarians projecting their conflicted, insecure relationship with food onto me. I eat meat because it is delicious. And actually, I enjoy it a little bit more knowing that it offends hardcore activist vegetarians.

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