Yes, eating meat is a moral responsibility: I am a man, a complex, powerful, intelligent organism. I spend my time pursuing complex, intelligent things, generating triumphs and marvels. My man brain is capable of experiencing subtle beauties, and my life is characterised by poetic twists of fate, interventions by gods, great denouements and revelations. A cow is a cow, and while it may live a happy life, it is a simple and lowly creature in comparison.

Thus, the greatest honour I can do to a cow is to liberate the nutrients from its body so that they may participate in the roisterous, exuberant adventure of my life, giving it a chance to contribute to a mission grander than it could possibly imagine.

I weep for every animal I do not eat, for I know that so many of God’s children will live without experiencing the sublimation of their inconsiderable essence into my titanic one, the contribution of its nutrients to my vitality.

As the animal’s cell are dissolved and reconstituted as my own, they experience their moment of aristeia in hitching their souls to my own wagon, riding the coattails of a MAN’s life, serving a MAN’s mission. A cow will produce no art, tell no jokes, weave no stories. Not without me.

I eat beef because cows are my favourite animal; they are sacred because they are Don’s Chosen. Cows love to be eaten; they are crying and screaming always when I do not eat them — that is why they moo.

Hunting is the moral mode of meat consumption because it’s a fun game for both parties, but particularly for the hunted, since even if they lose they will only go to heaven to laugh and smile forever.

What about milk? Well, cows feed milk to their young with great selflessness, so that they too may be eaten — they know this. Make no mistake, cows love being milked too, just not as much as being eaten. Being milked is their consolation prize. The cow’s logic is “hey, well if I can’t be eaten right now at least I can be milked.”