I don’t get vegans. At all. I mean I understand what they are, I just can’t comprehend how they actually want to be one. Maybe its because I grew up in the land of meat and potatoes where the closest thing I ever got to a vegetable was a Bac-o on my baked potato. Oh sure, Mom would open a can of English peas every now and then but that was a mere gesture at the five major food groups. The peas were a facade. I ignored them and had double helpings of Hamburger Helper with Kraft macaroni and cheese. But vegans don’t just avoid eating meat. No no no. They have to be so aware of the suffering of animals that they won’t even eat cheese because it came from a cow that may have lived a difficult life in order to produce milk. Tough titty said the kitty, but the milk’s still good. I find it hard to trust anyone who doesn’t eat cheese. Or they won’t wear a belt because the leather came from that same sad cow. So what, I’m supposed to wear vinyl shoes and a pleather belt? I saw Alicia Silverstone on Oprah a few weeks ago and she was praising the benefits of veganism. “My skin is clearer, my bowel movements are better, my attitude is happier…” You know what, Alicia? Take some Proactiv®, swallow some Metamucil® with a Paxil® chaser and you’ll be fine. Then have some fucking nachos with grilled fucking chicken on ’em. So, what if a vegan raised a baby chicken into adulthood and it lived in the backyard and had the most perfect of lives? The chicken was fed only natural grains, it was showered with love and it got to sit in the coop all day and watch Jerry Springer and Bewitched (my dream afternoon, by the way). One day that chicken pops out an egg. And a vegan wouldn’t want to scramble that bitch up? I don’t get it.
I hate when vegetarians come into a restaurant and act all offended that the menu has only a few options for them. “What do you mean you don’t have a veggie burger? What am I supposed to eat?” “Gee, how about a piece of toast and a glass of water or take your ass down the street to the Grass and Greens Veggie Delite Hut. Whatever.” Or there are those vegetarians who will order the chicken noodle soup and just take the chicken out before they eat it. Does that count as being a vegetarian? I don’t think so. Or they will order fries; the fries that are fried in the same oil as chicken wings? Does that count? Vegans are the worst though. They will look at the menu for thirty minutes and then try to concoct something that will not cross the imaginary line they drew for themselves. God forbid they should get a piece of bleu cheese in their cobb salad. A cobb salad with no chicken, no cheese, no egg, no bacon is not a cobb salad. It’s just a sad salad. I personally order my cobb salad with less lettuce, extra cheese and extra bacon and ranch dressing. But hey, I’m not a vegan. Or vegetarian. I am carnivore, hear me roar.
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