Brenton Moore

I may be a vegan, but PETA’s woke nonsense gets my goat

Overnight, PETA suggested we adjust our language to protect animals. As a vegan myself, I’d rather eat a porterhouse than side with those morons.

 

 

There’s an oft-repeated joke that we’re all familiar with, one that defines the ease of spotting a vegan.

Q: How do you know someone is a vegan? A: They’ll tell you.

It’s about as accurate as it is good. Which is quite. We don’t make it easy on ourselves. We make a choice that seems right. Thusly, we try and convince you to do the same. As far as negative labels go, we’ve sort of earned it. Like Crossfitters, Yogis or Anti-vaxxers, we tend to substitute humility for hubris, and we tend to get carried away by the momentum we created.

Despite this, we’re still people. Maybe not the vaxxers, but the rest of us, sure.

Overnight, PETA foolishly crossed the streams, adding social justice to veganism, purporting a list of alternate meat-free friendly aphorisms, in an effort to, in their words “to remove speciesism from daily conversations.”

 

 

PETA decided to push their point further, stating that “…just as it became unacceptable to use racist, homophobic, or ableist language, phrases that trivialise cruelty to animals will vanish as more people begin to appreciate animals for who they are and start ‘bringing home the bagels’ instead of the bacon.”

But I mean this when I say it. PETA can fuck off. Allow me to expand on my point. It’s their smug, uber-woke pretence that can FO. All this kumquat dimwit virtue signalling is going to achieve is further guffaws. Let’s not mince words, let’s break some eggs here. Common ground brings home the bacon. PETA are extremists, and the general populace believe the extremist to be a moron. They operate beyond reality or logic, subscribing only to the insanity of their beliefs. As a vegan, I know that those people are not us. Daresayit, #notallvegans. However, to the joke spouting everyman, they are. They’re our own very personal “your mate”, cue nudge in the ribs, wink wink. It’s a dead horse is repeatedly beaten, and deserves to be. I may not eat beef, but I can still call bullshit.

If there’s a silver lining in all this nonsense, it’s what the meme that accompanies this story illustrates. Maybe in alienating themselves can two disparate parties come together and point and laugh. After all, an enemy of an enemy is a friend. We may eat meat, or not, but at least we’re not PETA. Peace in our time. We can do it.

Let’s grab the bull by the horns.

 

 

 

Brenton Moore

Brenton is somewhat a musician, somewhat a writer and has worked with a number of writers and musicians in Australia, and intends to continue doing so. Even if he has to work retail.

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