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Archive July | Veganise Me
Jul 11 2007

Plutarch

by Edward

I wonder both by what accident and in what state of soul or mind the first man abstained from flesh, touched his mouth to gore and brought his lips to the flesh of a dead creature, he who set forth tables of dead, stale bodies and ventured to call food and nourishment the parts that had a little before bellowed and cried, moved and lived. How could his eyes endure the slaughter when throats were slit and hides flayed and limbs torn from limb? How could his nose endure the stench? How was it that the pollution did not turn away his taste, which made contact with the sores of others and sucked juices and serums from mortal wounds? We slaughter harmless, tame creatures without stings or teeth to harm us, creatures that Nature appears to have produced for the sake of their beauty and grace. But nothing abashed us not the flower-like like tinting of the flesh, not the persuasiveness of the harmonious voice, not the cleanliness of their habits or the unusual intelligence that may be found in the poor wretches. No, for the sake of a little flesh we deprive them of sun, of light, of the duration of life to which they are entitled by birth and being.

–Plutarch
(46-120 A.D.)
Greek historian, biographer, and essayist


Jul 11 2007

Passage from Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy

by Edward

A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox’s table,
a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with
large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have
been an ingratiating smile on its lips.

‘Good evening’, it lowed and sat back heavily on its haunches,
‘I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in the parts
of my body?’

It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hind quarters in
to a more comfortable position and gazed peacefully at them.

Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from
Arthur and Trillian, a resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and
naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox.

‘Something off the shoulder perhaps?’ suggested the animal,
‘Braised in a white wine sauce?’

‘Er, your shoulder?’ said Arthur in a horrified whisper.

‘But naturally my shoulder, sir,’ mooed the animal contentedly,
‘nobody else’s is mine to offer.’

Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling
the animal’s shoulder appreciatively.

‘Or the rump is very good,’ murmured the animal. ‘I’ve been
exercising it and eating plenty of grain, so there’s a lot
of good meat there.’

It gave a mellow grunt, gurgled again and started to chew
the cud. It swallowed the cud again.

‘Or a casselore of me perhaps?’ it added.

‘You mean this animal actually wants us to eat it?’ whispered
Trillian to Ford.

‘Me?’ said Ford, with a glazed look in his eyes, ‘I don’t mean
anything.’

‘That’s absolutely horrible,’ exclaimed Arthur, ‘the most revolting
thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘What’s the problem Earthman?’ said Zaphod, now transfering his
attention to the animal’s enormous rump.

‘I just don’t want to eat an animal that’s standing there
inviting me to,’ said Arthur, ‘It’s heartless.’

‘Better than eating an animal that doesn’t want to be
eaten,’ said Zaphod.

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