Vegetables are Murder, Too

I’ve gotten tired of the vegans who get pissed off and tell me about the evils of eating meat when they hear me order my 20 oz. medium rare steak with a side of more cow and maybe some eyeballs for good measure.

Vegan: “Meat is murder!”
Me: “No, killing you is murder. Meat is nutrition.”
Vegan: Explains to me how the cow was probably killed, thinking they’re going to turn my stomach or something.

Of course, I sit there, paying attention to every word, greatly amused by the description of how poor, helpless cows are packed into “slaughterhouses”, beaheaded, cut up, eviscerated, ground, and then fed to us.

Obviously, these vegans don’t know me too well. This description only makes me hungrier, and entertains me. I’m loving every second of it, and I’m making a show of eating my bloody steak right there in front of him while I’m listening to what an evil bastard I am.

Frustrated, seeing that I’m only enjoying his brilliant, over-imagined view of the death of food-cows, he says “FINE! YOU EAT THAT COW, MURDERER!”

It’s at this point that I would kindly go into my own tirade.

Me: “Excuse me, sir. But I’ve listened to your description of the evils of what I’m eating, so may I trouble you for a moment of your time? After all, it is only fair after you interrupted my date with this beautiful girl next to me.”
Vegan: “Oh god, wha the Hell do you want?”

Now, if all went well, at about this point the server would walk his or her jolly, hopefully attractive ass over to my table in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Server: “Sir? Can I get you anything else?”
Me: “Yes, please bring me the largest meatless salad you have.”

And here, I would turn back to my animal-friendly activist and contine you my conversation.
Me: “So, you’re telling me that by eating meat, I’m actively aiding the murder of an innocent organism?”
Vegan: “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Me: “So what about all those helpless ears of corn packed into a farm in nutrient starved soil that are then mercilessly harvested in the prime of their life, and then shuffled off to a packaging plant, never to procreate, and only to be stuffed into your mouth and chewed mercilessly to feed your body?”
V: “THAT’S NOT THE SAME!”
Me: “So plants aren’t alive?”
V: “Well, yes, of course they are.”
Me: “So what makes them any less important than the cow I just ate?”

Right about here, my salad shows up in all it’s murdered, dead plant cell glory. I begin to wish I had a high powered microscope so I could show this fuckwit all the lifeless cells inside the lettuce leaves. I settle for pointing out all the tomato seeds that will never grow into embryos. I describe them as “poor little tomato abortions”.

The vegan shows himself for who he really is, and begins to cry.

I suggest fasting for the rest of his life.

Vegan: “But then I’d die!”
Me: “Think about all the plant and animal life you’d save!”
Vegan: “I don’t want to die!”
Me: “And that my friend, is the food chain. Now fuck off.”

At this point my date (and half the people around me) are laughing hysterically. I pay for my meal, tip the server well, and hug the Vegina, because I feel bad for making him cry. I leave, and write blogs like this after laughing about the incident for the next 2 weeks.

And Vegans? Fuck you, and your self-righteous pseudo-intellectual bullshit psycho-babble. We’re at the top of the food chain. Deal with it, or I’ll eat you instead.