December 13, 2000
The only thing that WON'T kill you
by mike <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Playing with that little ball and cup toy won't kill you. You know, the cup thing with the ball attached with the little string, and you have to swing the ball into the cup. Man, that ball is EVASIVE! I try and try to get the ball in the cup, and every time he manages to get away!
Anyway, this week we're talking about health... indirectly. However, as you might expect from me, we're talking about health using someone's stupidity as a conduit. I speak of PETA - People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (not the little bread you make sandwiches with, you ass).
What do animals have to do with health? Well, what we eat these days seems to directly contribute to our well-being. Animals = meat = food. (If you're a Vegan, just go away. Don't even start on how meat is evil.)
In an effort to save every forsaken cow on the planet, PETA insists that drinking milk causes cancer. Much to my astonishment, they provided no scientific data whatsoever to support this assertion. Their Garbage Pail Kid-esque "Milk Sucker" cards and "Got Breast Cancer" ad campaigns boast that milk consumption causes gas and weight gain.
Where in the hell is this coming from? You know what, if you want to save a cow, ask me to save the damn cow. Instead, they preach that milk, a long-accepted source of calcium and other nutrients, causes cancer and thus I should spare the poor bovine that produced it. If the milk's gonna kill me, I'll just slaughter the cow and have burgers for dinner!
Just think: If we stopped our noble crusades for just a moment and focused our efforts on a common goal - AIDS research, for example - we'd have the cure in a flash. But no, we have to save the cows so they can fart, stink up the air, produce manure and contribute to the Greenhouse Effect. Great.
Forget finding the cure for cancer, world peace or the end to hunger - we need to worry about whether veal calves have 8 square feet of space or just 7.5 feet.
...7.5 or 8 - it doesn't matter to me. Stick me in a sweatbox and feed me non-stop. I might just die a happy man.
Published: December 13, 2000