Ok, so I'm not like the militant vegetarian type, but when some guy comes off and tells me I'm "stupid" for carrying on the diet I've assumed, all I gotta say is: "You eat dead rotting carcass and baked flesh and you call me 'stupid'? Go visit a slaughterhouse. Better yet, here's a hatchet -- go catch yr own animal and butcher it."
With all due respect to all of my meat-eating friends, the butchery in yr local supermarket is proof that marketing works. They sell you dead animals for you to eat. We've all just gotten used to it because it no longer resembles the animal it once was. Nuggets are the ultimate example of marketed amnesia.
Butcher dogs and cats and see how long those lines at the deli would be.
Go veggie. Take yr vitamins. Live healthy and try your best not to kill things or do things that result in the death of other things. Sometimes there's a little killing that needs to be done around the barn. But, sparingly folks... please.
I'll tell you this, I stopped eating mammals back in my teens and I quit poultry and fish three years ago. With the exception of one crab feast, I haven't knowingly eaten a dead animal in that time. And I didn't go veggie for some political or ethical reason; I went veggie because I thought it might help me get back to a reasonable weight and because folks laughed at me and said I'd never be able to give up chicken. I considered that a great challenge.
But since going on what some folks refer to as a 'strict' diet, I've noticed something peculiar. In fact it was a lot like giving up smoking back when I was in my early twenties. Once I did it, I started to realize that the whole thing was a matter of marketed mind-control. I wonder how many people would choose to eat cattle if they had to be present at the time of death to do it. I wonder how many people would eat beef if it came with the head attached. And those big, beautiful eyes.
That said, I'm no saint. Still wear a leather belt and use a leather guitar strap and I'm not making any excuses. I'm a hypocrite; this I know. Trust me, I know. Listen, I'm not trying to preach; I just don't like to eat dead animals. And please pardon my insouciance and suffer me this moment to rant because I take great exception to being insulted on account of my diet.
Now go eat some tripe. I've got to polish my boots.