I’m glad you’re a vegan, now leave me alone so I can finish my steak.
It turns out that I’m a soulless monster. My children are doomed to be soulless monsters. My children’s children are doomed to be soulless monsters. In fact, all of my descendants have a bleak future ahead of them.
It seems that I’m destined to be the progenitor of race of zombie-like creatures that aimlessly wander the Earth in a soul deprived state. (I don’t actually have any children yet and I’m seriously doubting if I should; who wants a bunch of soulless monsters running around the house?)
I’m also a savage, a butcher and a fiend.
All of this was pointed out to me by a woman who was quite certain that I was pure evil.
What did I do to incur such condemnation and wrath? I ate a cheeseburger. I didn’t eat a cheeseburger while robbing a bank or strangling a puppy. I just ate a cheeseburger.
She found this to be a vile and contemptible act and she let know how she felt.
There’s a point here that I need to make as clearly as possible:
If you’re a vegetarian, I’m fine with it. You can be a vegan, I’m fine with that too. If you eat nothing but pinecones and moss, I don’t care. Your diet can consist solely of gnawing the heads off live herring, a little gross but that’s your choice.
After absorbing a ten minute rant at my expense, I watched in disbelief as this woman got up to leave and put on a leather jacket. I’m not making this up, it was genuine “dead animal hide” leather. Evidently it’s fine to kill an animal if it makes you look like The Fonz.
If you want to wear leather, go right ahead, but please leave me and my cheeseburger alone.