Consider this, for just a moment, a future in which we continue eating burgers and steak and meatballs. Picture it and try to answer me this: If we turn all of our cows into beef, what happens when there are no more cows for me to have beef with? My greatest passion in this life is feuding with bovine. I maintain every imaginable type of feud with my sturdy adversaries, slow simmering, explosive, disgust with each others’ principles, based on mutual admiration, borne from misunderstanding, stemming from some wrong committed long, long ago, you name it. The arguments and quarrels are as varied as the spots on the dairy cows whom I disparage behind their backs. I value them more than I can say.
I’ll tell you a story, it’s sad but please stay with me. One bright morning last September, I made my way over to a nearby ranch, as I had many times before. I meant to continue my dispute with a heifer named Joann that we’d started several weeks previous. I’d taken the time to gather and prepare my arguments on why the electoral college should be abolished. Imagine my reaction when I arrived to no Joann, no familiar cows at all. They had all been turned into ground meat, along with all of my well-researched points. I was so distraught that I painted spots on my neighbor’s golden lab and yelled at him. It was neither a fair match, nor my greatest performance. It only made me feel the loss more. My neighbor now hates me.
You may wonder why I’m vegan, and not just a vegetarian. Here is why: I will not eat and drink from my enemy’s very teat. Can you even imagine the leverage it would give them? No, I live my life so that they can see, without doubt, that I don’t need them for anything. I’ll bring a gallon of almond milk and chug it down right in front of their enormous faces. “See, you cows” I say, “This expensive watery tree nut is running me out of house and home, but I’d rather drink it than your milk.” They have quite the poker faces, these animals, but I know how it wounds their pride.
I write this not to preach, but as a plea. When you’re about to eat a hamburger, think of me. What will I do with my days if not fight with cows? Even my shaky alliance with the pigs is based on the cows being our mutual enemy. I don’t know what would happen, and I hope to god I never have to find out.
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