So, eating plants is okay because they don’t bleed red. We don’t see them struggle, so we're allowed to dust them with salt and pepper, skinny dip them in virgin olive oil, bless their heads with a martyred lemon, and pierce them with our canines while they're still alive and screaming murder. They can’t look pregnant and helpless, shed salty tears, break our ribs, spout emotionally charged dialogues from blockbusters, pout, wriggle about, bite back, make sad droopy eyes, call 911, shriek, flee the spot or have a general say in the matter. So we rip their limbs off, parboil them, freeze their asses off, defrost them, shred them, slice them, roast them, bake them, sauté them, chop them into little pieces, make chomping sounds with their carcasses in our mouths, and as they travel down our moist esophagus, feel noble about saving the world. Because, after all, we didn’t torment a poor living soulful animal or bird with nerve endings; we opted for a big juicy plant instead, and that’s how we will create a healthy world, stop climate change and make extinction extinct.

Burp.