I never thought I'd be oppressed when I went out for dinner the other night. I ate at a vegan restaurant. I knew things were amiss when a huge sign let me know that by eating there my stomach would be purified. My stomach didn't need purification - it needed food because I was fucking hungry. The sign next to it cheerily read: "Einstein was a vegetarian. Think about it!" Well, dip shit, Hitler was a vegetarian. I ordered a tofurky burger with Ghandi sprouts, Fair Trade flax seeds and a bunch of other "conscious" ingredients that later blew out my colon. So much for purification. After ordering, I washed my hands. The sink had one of those ridiculous water conservation faucets that require you to push and hold a knob - which utterly defeats the purpose of hand washing. I looked to dry my hands and a note affixed to the mirror informed me that the restaurant put a spiritual moratorium on paper towels so trees can smile. Wanting to get the hell out of there, I ate quickly but not without overhearing other patrons drone on about how people who use hemp tote bags will inaugurate a new world order.

Once on the street, the delightful scent of sizzling animal flesh danced in my nostrils. I sprinted to the burger joint down the block and sat at a window seat to enjoy a Drippy Double Bacon Cheddar Chuck. The hempsters from the first restaurant walked by; and when one of them noticed me, he ran up to the window. His comrades followed. They shouted at me for being a soulless dick and asked whether I would want someone to throw my cat between two buns and eat it. I said I wouldn’t mind at all because my cat is also a soulless dick.

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