Shut Your Granola Hole, Hippie.

Calling it “animal protein” changes nothing: that is meat you are eating. Mmmmm…yeah…delicious. It is the red, bloody flesh of something that used to moo and dream.

A famous musician once told me that he doesn’t eat meat because he thought he would “inherit the dreams” of the animals he ate. I immediately doubled my meat consumption. Turns out he was wrong. Unless cows and pigs routinely dream of belly dancers. I expanded my palette to include exotic beasts, like alligator and crocodile, deer and elk. I hoped to dream of stalking the bayous in Louisiana or lying in wait in an African wadi for a baby zebra to get thirsty. No dice. More belly dancers.

Anyway, eat your meat. Own it. Deal with it. Drink whiskey with it. And get your goddamn kids vaccinated. Demon Flesh

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