My Sixth Annual Disgruntled Vegan Alphabet

 

Being vegan is awesome. I know that. You know that. (Well, you should.) As we know, though, just because we know that something is awesome, it doesn’t mean that the world around us shares this view. Because animal consumption is part of the miasma of disconnection that swirls around us all, most are unable to see it for what it is. Thus, I present to you my compilation of complaints and crankiness as one steaming platter of snarly ‘tude every year. This is my sixth annual airing of grievances, and while I am a little concerned about what I will do with the dreaded letter X in 2015, I have no doubt that people will continue to harsh my good vibes. Does this mean that I think being vegan is a burden? No, it does not: being vegan is fabulous, the best decision I ever made, one that I am grateful for each day. Could non-vegans stand to be less annoying in 2015? Yes. Yes, they could.

A is for Another flaky “former vegan” celebrity just went on a talk show and is now on the paleo bandwagon so could we please stop already with the celebrity worship? Pretty please? It never ends well.

B is for “But what about the Inuit? But what about the Native Americans? But what about the lions? But what about the microscopic insects you kill? But what about soy? But what about eating humane meat? But I’m part Italian. But eating meat is how I honor my ancestors. But I was raised eating meat. But I give a blessing. But I give thanks. But my guru said it was okay. But I need the protein. But I am allergic to soy, wheat, all grains, all fruits and all vegetables except for celery. But I need the iron. But I just eat a little meat. But I don’t eat red meat. But I only support the best farms. But…”

C is for Cough in front of the wrong person and it is incontrovertible proof that I have a vegan-induced nutritional deficiency.

D is for Delusion, because apparently there is a just and compassionate way to needlessly slaughter other sensitive beings as long as you have an unlimited supply of it.

E is for the Eerie silence that happens whenever I get stopped by a Greenpeace canvasser or the Sierra Club calls and I ask them about their organization’s public position on eating animals.

F is for For once, could I either opt out of the Secret Santa exchange at work or get someone who doesn’t give me a basket of alpaca milk soaps from her brother-in-law’s farm?

G is for Gotcha moments, and, no, you didn’t “get me” with your inquiry about what my shoes or coat are made of but try again, sport, because this endless game of pin-the-tail-on-the-hypocrite never gets old or predictable.

H is for Har-har-har, writing People Eating Tasty Animals in the middle of a debate never fails to make an original and devastating counter-argument. Touché! How could anyone ever recover from such a salient point?

I is for Ick, no, I really don’t miss eating corpses. Do I look like Hannibal Lecter or something? Fava beans and a nice chianti, though, those would be fine.

J is for that Junk science video you posted about “plants feeling pain.” If this is more persuasive to you than, I don’t know, the lack of a central nervous system and an evolutionary incentive for pain reception and you ignore the fact that far more plants are consumed when eating a diet that includes animals, I am going to have to question if you are really sincere about your convictions.

K is for karma because sometimes that is all we can hope for in life and we have all heard about her general disposition.

L is for Logical Fallacies because whether were are talking about a strawman argument (“Vegans hate people and only care about animals!”), the slippery slope argument (“If we stop eating animals, they will take over the world!”) the tu quoque approach (“How can you talk about animal suffering when you are stepping on bugs, hmm?”) and an anecdote (“My cousin was vegan for two weeks and she almost died from a protein deficiency!”), these are all examples of the logical fallacies people who want to continue eating animals will wrap themselves in like a warm blanket. A blanket with a bunch of holes in it nonetheless.

M is for the Massive meltdown that happens when a vegan asks her affluent grass-fed, organic paleo cousin how many worlds we’d need in order to sustain the world’s population with his way of eating.

N is for the Namaste-spouting New Agers who try to justify eating animals and are so self-involved as to claim that “judgments” are worse than unnecessary violence and destroying the planet. Altogether now: om…

O is for Okay, do you honestly believe that vegans are pushing their views on you? Have you looked at the world through the lens of someone who doesn’t think that animals are “food” lately? Have you tried to look at the world through the lens of a being who is born and raised solely for the purpose of being eaten lately?

P is for Paranoia, as in, “I said soy milk, right? Because if my coffee has cow’s milk in it I will be really upset and disgusted. Okay, wait, I see you’ve charged me extra because apparently destroying our planet is not enough for animal product consumers, now they should be able to get what they want without any penalties at all and when is a vegan coffee shop finally going to open around here??? So, anyway, how do I know the barista didn’t make a mistake?”

Q is for having exceeded my annual Quota of weird looks and passive-aggressive remarks about my meatless roast at my family’s Thanksgiving dinner within five minutes of being there. Because family…

R is for Really, I don’t want to hear about how much you love animals but vegans “just take it too far” because, you know, this is kind of idiotic if you think about it without your ego getting in the way.  

S is for being Self-righteous because it’s better than being self-wrongteous.

T is for Turducken because what kind of twisted, Caligula-minded sadist invented this grotesquery?

U is for the Universal sign of warm weather, which means that when I can finally open my windows for a few months, the smell of charred, tortured flesh filling the air greets me. Yay.

V is for getting Verklempt at the Vicarious thrill we enjoy when one of our protégés goes off and becomes an awesome little vegan agitator in his or her own right. Fly, little bird. Fly! Oh, wait. This was supposed to be complaining. Okay, V is for Vasectomy because, please, 98% of humanity, let’s look into it. Snip, snip, done.

W is for Wings as in do you know that people actually sit around and eat a bird’s severed limbs and then dump the bones in a bowl and, um, tofu is gross? Oooookay, then.

X is for the Xenophobes who think that Asian cultures that eat dogs are barbaric while they themselves eat dead chickens and cows. Um, what???

Y is for the boiled Yellow squash plate vegans are served at our cousin’s wedding that no amount of salt, pepper, denial or wishful thinking will be able to remedy. This is why an emergency nutrition bar should always be in the glove compartment.

Z is for the Zany situations that turn your life into a tragicomedy that will make for an excellent screenplay for a film that roughly two percent of the population might be willing to see one day.

Until next time!