Say, WHAT?



No, really …

As feminists, we’re working to put more women in office and in corner offices. We fight for equal pay, tax-free feminine hygiene products, an end to sexual harassment, funding for women’s sports, and streets safe enough for us to walk alone. […] Can food really be sexist? Yes, when it’s the product of imprisonment, rape, reproductive control, kidnapping, and abuse. […] Cows who are imprisoned on dairy farms are forcibly impregnated through artificial insemination again and again on rape racks. Rape racks. All for your milk, cheese, and yogurt.

The sobbing feminist here obviously hasn’t observed animals mating … suffice it to say, it isn’t accompanied by candlelight, a couple glasses of wine, gentle whispers and, ahem, affirmative consent.

PETA, of course, has made moral cretinism into low performance art. From naked people wrapped in plastic to the infamous comparison of chickens to Jews murdered in the Holocaust.

PETA and the rest of the fundamentalist vegans haven’t just anthropomorphized animals, they fetishize them. Their moral certitude allows them to toss aside all normative rules about human interactions and engage in the most offensive, outrageous acts of whack-a-doodlism around.

Even the usually insufferable Neil deGrasse Tyson can cause a case of cognitive vapor lock in the Vegan Cult on Twitter by cheekily stating the obvious:

A cow is a biological machine invented by humans to turn grass into steak. — Neil deGrasse Tyson (@neiltyson) August 7, 2017



Domestication of what were once wild animals drastically changed them. They, indeed, are biological machines bred to fulfill one or many specific functions. Does that mean we are to mistreat them? Not at all. A good steward of resources recognizes both the practical and ethical obligations of caring for animals. Yet if PETA had its way, cows, dogs, cats, horses would eventually go extinct as domesticated animals were banned.

Some compassion, eh?

Now, please excuse me. I have a couple of steaks to purchase for dinner tonight. — I like mine rare, smothered in sauteed mushrooms. (Tell me there’s no Save the Fungus group?)