I made a mistake today, and I would like to learn from my mistakes. And because I have a weblog, you can learn from them too!
What was it, you ask? I bought a vegan muffin. “Harmless”, you might think but no, I claim that it is not so.
Vegan cooking, I am convinced, is a deeply deceptive practice. It is not, as they say, “cruelty-free”; that cruelty is only delayed. There seems to be some law of conservation of cruelty at play here; vegan cooking stores that cruelty, gathers it up and focuses it until at last it is sprung on you, the consumer, in that penultimate moment when you put whatever it is in your mouth, your taste buds recoil in horror and your regularity is seemingly promoted at gunpoint.
Presumably vegans tolerate this gladly, smiling piously with the same abstentious glee that led their monastic antecedents to flagellate themselves or set themselves on fire towards a gloriously divine end. And, if you assume that those old monks were whipping themselves with hemp rope, the circle is complete! But that doesn’t change much of anything, least of all the fact that vegan food tastes like damp sand, and the earnest hippies who’ve told me differently seem to be trying to convince themselves as much as me. Handy tip: you can tell the ones that aren’t all-the-way gone by the sad look and the thousand-yard-stare they get when they catch a whiff of a bacon-cheeseburger.
I swear to you, I almost swallowed my own tongue. “Mother of God, I have to get away”, my tongue was thinking, “and the front of his mouth is blocked! There is only one way to escape! Dive! Dive!”