Veganism meets Mary Ann & Ginger

It’s getting easier and easier to be vegan, right? I mean, there are tons of vegan restaurants out there now, loads of vegan products in stores – being vegan is more accessible than ever.  Well yes and no.

There are certainly tons more vegan restaurants; they are popping up all over – I’ve even seen one right next to a steakhouse – mmm pleasant….gak! Grocery stores are chock full of vegan products – and I don’t mean just fresh fruits and veggies. Vegan cheeses, salad dressings, ice creams, yogurts, milks, butters, whatever you enjoyed as an omnivore you can pretty much get plant-based now.

It would seem going vegan is as easy as saying: I’m vegan.

But I have noticed one anomalie. I daresay other vegans have too, but I haven’t really heard anyone mention it yet.

What’s with all the fucking “Beyond Meat” products going into our fav fast food outlets and coffee shops BUT NO ALTERNATE DAIRY OPTIONS?

There are signs up at our local Timmies (Tim Hortons Donuts) advertising a vegan Beyond Sausage patty sammich. “VEGAN” it says plastered in bright red across the top, but I can’t get soy milk in my coffee because THEY DON’T SERVE IT! So I can buy a breakfast sammich but not a coffee (unless it’s black). What the actual fuck?

That’s not even just a vegan option, peeps; many people are lactose intolerant. It’s not a choice for some people, it’s a necessity, but there is no non-dairy alternative. Unless you want to go to Starbucks and pay $25 for a gigante latte frappe with soy and a sprinkling of garbanzo beans…..whatever…. I can’t afford that joint. A lot of people I know can’t either. So if you’re poor but have a conscience OR a health condition, you can get a meat substitute sammich but not a simple coffee or tea.

Non-dairy alternatives should have happened years ago, long before anyone even knew about Beyond Meats. They should be on every menu. It’s not more expensive. It’s not hard to get. It’s not unnecessary.

But no. A meat substitute is the very first plant-based option on fast food menus. MEAT.

Why? Why did meat substitutes become the first thing to be adopted at these places and not a non-dairy beverage? Long before plant-based was a thing people were lactose intolerant. Why was this issue never catered to?

I’m confounded, peeps. Appalled and confounded.

I have no answers either. I think it has to do with money. Let’s think about this: (uh oh, she’s thinking again!) The vegan movement is growing; awareness of the abuse of animals and the negative impact of animal products on our health and environment are causing a lot of people to be awakened to reality. There is more money to be made off a meat sandwich than a cup of coffee, so obviously that is targeted. But also, the Beyond Meats are causing such a sensation at the moment EVERYWHERE anyone in the food industry would be a fool not to follow suit and include it on a menu.  The meat substitutes may be single handedly converting many omnivores to plant-based, something soy milk can’t brag to have done. (Nut milks aren’t an option: allergies and all that.) Soy milk isn’t making headway in our propaganda machine the same way meat substitutes are. Soy milk just isn’t exciting, peeps.

Soy milk is like the Mary Ann to Beyond Meat’s Ginger (Gilligan’s Island reference for all you millennials. Google it.)

But I am so freaking frustrated! All I want is a coffee with non-dairy alternative! Is that so much to ask? I ask for it in every Timmies to which I go. Finally, one of our shops here started serving soy milk. I was so excited! They probably had to turn their head phones down when I whooped. They are owned by the same people as the other shop up the street, so I checked there too, but that one doesn’t have soy milk. The clerk didn’t even know what it was – and yet when I explained, she said “oh well we have the Beyond Sausage patty. That’s vegan.” I said, “I just want a coffee tho…” and she simply didn’t understand my point. I told her to perhaps mention it to her employer and she gave me a dirty look and shut the window.

OMG What the actual fuck again? Same owners, same actual street, but no soy milk.

When will the world realize the Mary Anns of this world are the foundation the Gingers have used to soar to their pinnacle? That without the Mary Anns, the Gingers would have broken a nail or two in their ascent to stardom?

So, all this to say, in some ways, no it’s not that much easier to be vegan in a meat-eating world. When all you want is a coffee with non-dairy alternative – something that is not strictly vegan even – it shows the disconnect with which we still have to live.

 

 

 

A Summer Night in the City

I currently live in the ‘burbs, but once upon a time, I lived in the big city: Toronto. I really love it in Toronto. For someone who hates big crowds, this is an anomaly, but then I have never pretended to be anything other than myself: weird.

I actually love the diversity in people and in shops. Where else can you get vegan pizza sitting next to Ali’s Grocery and Cigarettes next to Hong’s Gift Shop next to Satan’s Eye Tattoos next to Mme. Dupont’s Ballet for Girls? I mean, come on, peeps.

So my forays into the city now are pretty special – and fun. Usually I go to see my girl, Moon, but this time, I went with my friend, Joanne, and her daughter, Tatiana. We had a fun day planned, including having some lunch out and a walking tour of Mount Pleasant Cemetery, (fucking blisters ahhhh) a landmark 200 acres in the heart of Toronto. Joanne also wanted to bring along some food and water to spend some time helping out the “homeless” downtown. Beyond giving some change, an occasional Timmie’s card or bag of dogfood (for the dogs) I haven’t really had much contact with the disenfranchised folks of the street.

not my photo

It was an eye-opener, peeps.

I kind of took a back seat to the whole thing, letting Joanne take the lead in approaching “likely looking” people (and let me tell you, the likely looking people may not be what you think they are). I handed out the pies and smiled a lot, cause, you know, anxious and shit. They were wonderful: friendly, happy to see us, grateful for the food and water. It felt good.

That was the day time.

We still had food left after our tour and decided to go back to the Yonge Street area where there seemed quite a few street people congregating after dark. Of course, in Toronto, it’s not really dark, it’s lit up like a carnival, but it was night and a whole different type of street person was taking up the prime spots.

Cue doomsday music crescendo.

Gone were the chubby little Romanian ladies in babushkas with their little signs; in their place were addicts, gun shot victims, hookers and alcoholics, with dealers and cops peppered in and around them.

I mean, I’ve been downtown at night before. I knew these people were there. But this was the first time I actually spoke to and interacted with any of them.

At first I was nervous. The scene before me was like something out of a TV show. Not Brooklyn 99, I can assure you. These people were no “Doug Judys”. The scene was more like Law & Order or even Mad Max: City Nights. (That could be a thing, peeps! Screen play anyone??)

So we went about and among them, handing out pies and Joanne’s homemade healthy date and nut balls, filling up water bottles, and chatting about them: their life, their situation, their feelings.

Yes, many were drunk or stoned. There were a couple of sex workers, a gun shot victim (shot in the ankle, hand and leg… not sure how that happened).

There were some smooth looking, man-bun wearing, slim square-toed shoe-sporting city slickers hopping in and out among them all, dealing drugs, under the watchful eye of a uniformed policeman. I guess the amounts were not enough to warrant a reaction or maybe it was understood this was home turf for these people, and what goes on at home is private. I don’t know. It seemed very weird to me, but I realize this was not the black and white world we live in, where we always have a comfy bed, good food, and wifi. This was a world of shadows, greys and blacks, cold cement, grit-riddled food, and rats. (Yes I saw a few, running behind where the action was).

I gotta say, though, I was impressed. I’ve known Joanne a very long time; I have always known her to be a kind person, who is truly interested in people. She is one of the few people I know who actually listen whens someone rambles on about stuff, she questions them and shows honest interest in them and what they have to say. ,

So we met a murderer (a real live one!) and his girlfriend, both Natives, and felt our hearts break as the fellow talked about his grown daughter with tears in his eyes (he was charged with murder after he defended his daughter from being raped); we learned the woman had a college certificate. They were not stupid, useless or bad. They were drinking alcohol disguised as koolaid in their water bottles, so I assume the drinking contributed to their situation. They had 2 large bags full of all their worldly possessions, and their “home” was a doorway big enough for the both of them, the sidewalk around them strewn with shards of glass and litter.

And around us, people in Armani and Ralph Lauren went about their business, bypassing the street people in their translucent houses.

We spent a couple of hours in all, sharing food, talking, laughing and even crying with these folks. They are people, just like us. They have children, just like us. They have feelings, just like us. They don’t want to be out on the street, but there is nowhere else for them to go.

On the streets it’s fairly warm, there are always bodies to cram up against for warmth; there’s food (not what we call food, but they get by), they have friends, colleagues, like-minded folks who “get” them, not look down on them; they have their addictions supplied, same as us. They have eyes to see – and they see much more than we give them credit for; they understand the reality of their world and what “we” think of it, but it’s their world, they own it, and they don’t own much else.

Now I am not a religious person, but all I kept thinking as I walked those city streets on this summer night was “but for the grace of god, go I….”

And that’s really the truth, peeps.

 

Black Goat Farm and Sanctuary

So this week, I had a date with a black goat.

No, no, I wasn’t delving into the art of black magic or practicing self-sacrifice to a satanic lord. (been there, done that in my last relationship ahaha! I’m laughing here but its really not that funny…see earlier posts)

I signed up for a bi-weekly volunteer work day at Black Goat Farm and Sanctuary, and Thursday was my first day!

Totes the Goat, for whom Black Goat Sanctuary is named. He is in a timeout here because he was bad.

Now I already volunteer for occasional events at my local humane society, and of course I’ve adopted numerous dogs, cats, birds, hamsters, fish and snails over the years. I’ve shared sandwiches with our backyard chicken, and recently even fed baby racoons from a bottle! (awwwwww…let’s all say it together)

But I really just fucking love farm animals. I don’t know why. Cows, goats, sheep, pigs, chickens, ducks, I just love them. Especially cows. They are just so huge and gentle, with the most beautiful eyes and soft, rounded lips, just like my spaniel. They actually kind of make me think of ginormous dogs. I like the fact that we can interact with farm animals because over the millenia they’ve been domesticated so much, and they are so trusting they basically know their lives depend on us. They are so misunderstood and mistreated, I feel a special bond with them and a special desire to take up their cause in particular.

So I am really committed to the demonstrations against factory farming and the inhumane farming practices. Helping out at the Sanctuary was a new experience for me and one which I had been hoping to do for some time. Getting right in there, down and dirty, building barns, slogging manure, birthing babies…..ok well not that but I just wanted to interact with farm animals, ok?!

Of course, the day before my scheduled work day, I was sick with a fever and congestion. Really sick. Unable-to-scrape-myself-off-the-couch sick. Tissue-stuck-up-each-nostril sick. Anyway, I took some Dayquil, made a strong coffee in my travel mug, grabbed the Halls, and drove off anyway, armed with my rubber boots, rain poncho, and trusty phone for pictures. (Oh the pictures!)

These folks are super nice and bought this farmland with the intention to open a much-needed rescue. They operate solely on donations or their hard-earned money at their day jobs, and their mission is to raise awareness as to how livestock is treated in society. They are recently creating a schedule for volunteers to help out with the day-to-day management/work on the farm.

And it’s no small feat, as  I soon found out.

When I first got there, I guess you could say I was like a grinning child: I ran up to all the animals to hug them, “Who is this? Which one is this? OMG LOOK AT THIS ONE?” It was kind of neat because I had them on my Facebook and IG and so I felt like I already knew some of them, but here I was actually petting them! Once I had hugged every single cow, goat, and sheet, and had calmed down a bit, we grabbed our tools: shovels and brooms, and started the arduous job of cleaning out the barn so the floor could be prepped and new hay laid down.

The main barn used to be a chicken warehouse, and was now converted with some large stalls and a huge open space for everyone to play. And play they did.

It was a rainy day, grim and overcast, so first of all, none of them wanted to be outside. They clustered around us as we worked, extremely curious about who we were and what we were doing, playing with each other and bumping against us as we worked. It was not unusual to be sweeping away, feel a bump which nearly took me off my feet, and turn to see Zoey the Heifer peering at me curiously. I had to stop what I was doing multiple times to talk to them and pet them and hug them. That’s when I noticed Zoey’s soft mouth was like my spaniel’s, and then I was like “Omg you’re like my dog, Omg I Love you!” Calvin, the Jersey, at one point decided he wanted to help bring the filled wheelbarrow to be dumped, and turned it over back onto the concrete floor.

Then there was Maple, the crippled goat. In her past situation, she was being raised for meat, her leg was somehow broken there but was never set so it healed all broken up. Then due to her leg not being set properly, she was actually rejected for meat, was just going to be euthanized for no reason. Simply because she was not needed. Black Goat Farm to the rescue! And now, she gallops around on three legs, and plays head-butts with Millie, another goat, as if there was nothing unusual about her at all.

Maple, her leg has actually fused this way due to a break which was never treated properly in her last situation.

Luna is a Heifer, so gentle and quiet, with both eyes missing. In her last situation, she developed some eye issues, but it was not tended to because, well vet bills are expensive and what did she need eyes for anyway? So her painful and uncomfortable condition was left untreated. When Black Goat Farm got her, her eyes needed to be removed in order for her to heal. Today, she is the calmest, quietest girl you could ever see, with no fear of her surroundings, despite having lost her vision.

Luna had both eyes removed at Black Goat Farm because she had severe untreated eye infections from her last situation.

Many of the animals there have similar stories; some were dumped; some, like the pot-bellied “mini” pigs were adopted as pets by uninformed people and eventually surrendered, some were rescued from horrific circumstances, and sadly, some were rescued from deplorable conditions, treated by Black Goat Farm’s vets, and yet didn’t make it.

It’s truly heart breaking to hear the stories of what the beautiful and tender beings have been through; it’s emotionally debilitating to me to know there are thousands out there still experiencing it. Some at factory farms hooked up to milking machines, babies ripped away and tossed into a veal crate; standing butt to jowl in cramped transport trucks with no water or food for days, in extreme heat or cold, as they are carted to their death; some forced to bear litters in small metal crates over and over again with minimal to no veterinarian care because people really love bacon!

When you meet these beings in person, when you’ve watched their silly antics, when you’ve looked into their eyes, you really don’t see any difference between them and the animals we consider “our pets”. Why does society see them this way? Quick answer? Because we have been raised to think of certain animals as “products” not sentient creatures.

Serial killers dehumanize their victims to make it easier to torture and eventually kill them for whatever their nefarious purposes are. Their victims are a means to an end, to satisfy some cruel and evil blood lust, and the way I see it, factory farming is basically the same thing.

There is absolutely no good reason for eating animal flesh and consuming dairy in this day and age, with all the knowledge we have about health and wellness, and all the many plant-based options available now. If you truly want to make a difference in this life, for the environment and for yourself, stop eating meat. I know a whole truckload of living beings who will thank you!

Tweet Tweet!

Peeps, I just created a Twitter account. Apparently, that’s where all the cool kids go to connect and get noticed in their fields and build their brand.

Since I am trying to build my followers, I thought that seemed like a good thing to do with my blog. If you are interested I’m @BadpuppyBlogs.

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, are the basic three; the mirepoix of social media. Just like in a recipe, if you don’t have these three as the basis for your brand, you will not have the fundamental groundwork to be successful. So they say.

I’d had a Twitter account before, and I could never get on top of it. I was lost in all the @s and hashtags and everything moved so quickly, I simply couldn’t keep up with it. It seemed all everyone did was share sports stories or push their brand exclusively. It didn’t interest me, and sure as hell didn’t absorb me, so after a few months I just thought what the fuck, and deleted it.

But supposedly, the more social media platforms you join the better, and it seems EVERYBODY is tweeting crap all over the place. Twitter is proven to be a direct, speedy, and effective way to say your piece and get noticed – if you have the right followers and are following the right people. You see, if you have a list of Joe-Blow buddies on your Twitter, you are basically going to be spouting off your astute meanderings and witty repartee to the people you are already spouting off to on Facebook. They are going to get sick of you and unfollow you, turning your already meagre list of followers into a mere skeleton of non-involved, disinterested rabble.

So I read up on shit, peeps, did some studying of marketing in this online world, and I found a new word: ENGAGEMENT. Not the ring kind, (been there, done that, not all it’s cracked up to be) but the kind where you insert yourself into a tweet with an intelligent statement or humourous retort and trigger others’ response to you. In this way, you put yourself out there for followers to fall in love with your bon mot, then follow you and hopefully “retweet” you to all of their followers and so the movement continues. THAT is how you gain followers and gain popularity.

So I signed in and immediately followed a few significant-to-me organizations: some animal justice accounts, a couple of news accounts, and I started “engaging”.

Low and behold, I got one follower almost right away, someone I did not know, but their handle was very similar to mine. However, it turns out, they are the “first and largest collection of Gay Male Adult Erotica” so that’s something! As the night wore on, one of my comments was getting liked over and over again, (not by Gay-Erotica Guy) even retweeted. I actually had one person comment that what I said should be made into a T-shirt!

Come on, peeps, that’s fucking amazing! Me!! Coining a phrase for a T-shirt that goes viral on Twitter. And that was only my first day.

Screen shot of my notifications. Champ Titty Sprinkles’ comment was eloquent too, don’t you think?

I will reveal to you my Twitter-famous comment here: “Everything about #ford is offensive”.

That’s it. That’s all. But what a response! Thank god Ford is a dick or my comment might not have gone over the way it did; it might have simply been absorbed into the flux and flow of multiple tweets, into the black Twitter hole of anonymity, and my first experience on Twitter would not have been so exciting.

I’m hooked now, though, peeps.

I mean, I know it will take some time, but I’m really looking forward to interjecting my thoughts in places they wouldn’t otherwise get noticed. I mean how many people can brag they are being followed by the “first and largest collection of Gay Male Adult Erotica” @Badpuppy?

Pffff not too many, I should think.

 

Aspirations and Animals

Animals touch our lives in many ways. Not only do we co-exist with them on this planet, but they have sustained us through the eons as helpmates, companions, and protectors. Those who have pets think of them as family: we celebrate our successes with them at our side, we mourn our losses, and we mourn their loss just as any family member. We turn to them for comfort when life gets tough, knowing we have their unconditional love and support.

My son asked me to write about something he experienced recently. It surprised me because he typically keeps to himself and prefers his privacy. It was such a profound incident for him, though, he felt it was worth mentioning.

This summer he found himself hospitalized for a condition called Rhabdomyolysis, when the muscles react to being severely damaged by leaking protein enzymes (called CK) into the body which then floods the kidneys. If the damage is profound, the kidneys shut down, and in a worst case scenario, dialysis may be needed and permanent damage may be done. I know right? Who knew?

He was in for seven days, pumped up with thousands of litres of fluids to dilute and eventually flush his system and kidneys. Dialysis was a possibility in his case, and daily blood tests were done to track his CK levels, which never seemed to come down. He put 60 lbs. of weight on – all fluids being pumped into him. (It all came off afterwards, slowly). He feared not just for his kidneys health, but for his life. As did we.

He kept saying, “I just want to go home.”

It broke my heart that I couldn’t take him home, and make everything go away, but his life depended on resting and taking the treatment. You know, as mothers we pretty much become psychotic creatures where our kids are concerned. I lost track of how many times I felt myself putting on my invisible viking helmet and charging through the ward with my invisible sword called “Slicer” sweeping patients and orderlies out of my way in order to effect some treatment for my son that I felt was not being done fast enough. It’s what we do.

Once he did get home, his little dog, Arel, came to greet him. Arel is a Chihuahua, an immigrant from the Dominican Republic. He is a bit of a Casanova with an overbite, and thinks all the girl doggies love him. 

You can actually hear him, saying Joey-stylez, “How YOU doing?” when he meets a female doggy. Mostly he just annoys them. But his little Chihuahua lovings are as big as a Great Dane’s and when my son finally had a chance to greet him at home, he broke down. How happy and comforted that little dog made him feel broke the barrier of any register. It was at that point he actually felt he was going to get better – he had to get better – because Arel was rooting for him.

He told me I needed to write this story so other people would know how invaluable our animals are to us; how beneficial they are. He wanted the readers to know how enriched our lives are because we have these pets to love; how our goals and perspectives can change for the better because this little trusting being is putting their life in our hands and loving us so much for it. I think he realized at that point how precious life really is, everyone’s and everything’s; that our animals should be cherished as humankind’s partners, not dismissed as lesser beings, mistreated, used up, and then tossed away when they no longer serve us. 

My son is pretty much recovered now, and Arel is back to his aloof, I’m-a-cool-dude self, ensuring his suave image is intact, but I think of all the homeless dogs and cats in shelters, and all the factory farm animals being held hostage and mistreated, and I despair not only for them, but for the people out there who don’t have this kind of love in their life, who don’t understand this concept of animals not being there for us to use. My goal is for us all to embrace all animals as sentient creatures who have as much right to this earth as us: to co-exist with them peacefully, not dominate them and use them. 

What a wonderful world it would be!

 

#sorrynotsorry

Oops, I did it again! #sorrynotsorry

Thursday, I spent most of the day bearing witness to more victims of society’s food pyramid. In the morning, I was back at Fearman’s Pork providing water and succour to frightened, doomed baby pigs; and then we travelled to north Etobicoke, to demonstrate at a cattle slaughterhouse – and don’t kid yourself, they slaughtered for Halal beef and lamb there too. Despite a wonderful, fresh plant-based picnic in the park, catered by some of our group, the day itself was no picnic.

Me and Joanne before the arrest scare. #sorrynotsorry

It was my first time at a cow vigil; I didn’t really know what to expect. I understood we might not be able to offer water to the cows, and they might be frightened as much by our presence swarming the trailer as the journey itself. And of course, they would be assaulted by the same smell we were subjected to: the stench of blood, offal, bone, and death which permeated the block hundreds of yards before we actually reached the plant. It was a sickening, putrid smell, much like the garbage can on a hot day with maggots crawling all over, only worse because of the smell of drying blood under the hot sun. If I were still a meat-eater before this day, I would most certainly not be after. It was not clean. It was not hygienic. It was not healthy. Our MORGUES are more pleasant. Just sayin’.

the blood and offal sluice. it was really “offal” !

We were fortunate to be able to put a dab of peppermint essential oil under our noses; the cows, not so much. And the workers – how they were able to go from the disgusting work environment to a fast food truck across the road, then eat sitting right next to the blood sluice, I cannot even fathom.

the lunch table next to the blood sluice wall. yuck.

I tried to ask a worker if he liked working there (yes, I found myself accidentally peaking in a wire mesh window on the property to try to get a good photo – hey if they don’t want people looking in, they shouldn’t have a floor to ceiling opening in the side of their plant!) No one would talk to me, and then the police came threatening to charge those who had trespassed. I figured it was me, and I was actually going to be calling my parents for bail like I had jokingly threatened. (#sorrynotsorry) (I really don’t know how I endured six weeks in India without causing an international incident, but that is another post another day.) I’m just too curious for my own good. Don’t tell me I can’t or shouldn’t do something, ’cause that’s when I will do it, or die trying!

It was a horrible environment, and that was only outside the plant! We were able to peer into an opening right off the sidewalk (not trespassing) where the blood sluice was kept ready to dump drained blood and other bits into a bin, which would then most likely be sent to make dog food or maybe even hotdogs (#sorrynotsorry picture it!). Right next to the sluice was a picnic table for the employees to have their breaks outside in the sunshine….just so much ewwwww. 

The cows were packed into the same kind of trailer as the pigs, with vent holes so the really hot stinky air could breeze over them and ‘refresh’ them as they waited to die. They stood smashed up against each other, listless and sad. Now and then one or two would kick the side of the trailer in frustration and fear. They might not have known exactly what they were waiting for, but they sure as hell knew it wasn’t good.

For us humans, it was yet another example of the inhumanity we seem to have no problem subjecting others whom we deem lesser than us. Who makes that distinction? Apparently we, humans feel we have the right and the privilege to pass judgment on other species because we are “intelligent” beings. Definition of intelligent: clever, bright, brilliant, quick-witted, quick on the uptake, smart, canny, astute, intuitive, insightful, perceptive, perspicacious, discerning. Huh. Really. Doesn’t look that way to me.

The one bright spot on the day was visits from two vegan internationally renowned activists: Earthling Ed and James Aspey. Now THERE are some intelligent humans. They have both come across the world to spread their goals of compassion and health, for humans, animals and the earth. Ed is from England, and James, from Australia. Hyper links to more information on the two are included here. It was wonderful to meet them both and hear their message of hope for all living beings.

Joanne, Earthling Ed, and Me.

this might be your steak this week. He’s dead now.

The juxtaposition between speaking with them and hearing their encouraging stories and the plight of the pigs and cows in trailers not 10 feet away was mind-blowing. No one wants to die. No one wants to live in pain and terror. No one wants to be subjected to un-anaesthetised tail docking, dehorning, castration, perforation of stomach walls, automatic round-the-clock milking, skinning, plucking, beak cropping, baby removal and theft, cramped living quarters, no sunlight, feces covered bedding – no one I know, anyway. Would you?

So that’s why I’m #sorrynotsorry that I peaked in that window and pissed off some people. And I’m #sorrynotsorry that if you come to my house you will get a vegetarian meal – it will be delicious! but it will be plant-based. And I’m #sorrynotsorry if some of the things I say and post tweak your conscience and make you feel bad about eating meat. And I’m #sorrynotsorry if you get sick of listening to me post about these injustices to other living beings. And I’m #sorrynotsorry for all of this because maybe if each one teaches one, we won’t need to be #sorrynotsorry anymore.