-- Your father was a beef burrito, his father was a beef burrito. But it's not good enough for you.
-- Look, I don't want to be slaughtered at one of those impersonal factory farms, eaten by people who care nothing about our well-being. I want to be eaten by people who treat us with kindness and compassion before they slaughter us. I want to be an animal welfare-approved piece of steak, purchased by a progressive shopper who cares so deeply about reducing my suffering that she/he is willing to pay a little extra for a taste of my flesh. You see how I say she/he? I picked it up from them. These people are so sensitive to any and all forms of oppression/domination ... ah, you wouldn't understand. I mean when you're a beef burrito, you'll end up getting eaten by a car full of drunken fraternity guys at two in the morning, guys who couldn't care less about how much you suffered. Not me. I'm going to be eaten by sensitive, refined progressives who sip chardonnay in between bites of my flesh. And believe me, they won't be talking about the hot chicks they want to do, like your drunken frat boys in the drive-thru lane. Not even close. The progressive people who consume my flesh will be discussing important things, like saving the planet, reducing their carbon footprints, making sure animals like us are treated humanely.
-- You'll still be dead.
-- yes, but I'll die knowing my flesh will soon give sustenance to people who are fighting to give us a better life.
-- If these people care so much about your suffering, why do they eat you?
-- Everything is so black and white with you. These progressives are comfortable with ambiguity. They can believe passionately in reducing our suffering and still eat us.
-- How?
-- How should I know? I'm only a steer. I'm not a human progressive. If I were, I'd know the answer but I'm not. So fuck off, I don't give a fuck if grandad was a beef burrito or a Whopper or a Big Mac. I'm going to be an Animal Welfare-Approved piece of steak eaten by a progressive and that's fucking that.
