A courageous stand in support of factory farming

All you overly emotional, bleeding heart vegans need to shut up !

I’m standing up against your bullying tactics and speaking up for people just trying to make an honest living such as Tyson Foods and Dean Foods, and for people who’d like to enjoy their cheese and pepperoni pizza in peace.

Mercy for Animals ? What about Mercy for Omnivores? Who’s standing up for our rights ?

Well, I am, right here, right now. I’m proudly proclaiming my support for factory farming. I’m speaking out against all that tree hugger hog-wash–(no pun intended)– about algal blooms, H1N1, MRSA, BSE, and antibiotic resistance.

While we’re at it, someone’s got to tell those dairy farmers to stop whining about Dean Foods having a monopoly. Someone’s got to have the balls to tell all those other farmers to go big or go…I don’t know, maybe apply for a job at Walmart.

Goofy bumpkins giving their cows, chickens, and pigs names and letting their kids treat them like pets. No wonder so many of them have lost their farms the past 30 years or so.

Kind of serves them right for being almost as bad as those irrational animal rights whack-jobs, who might even be terrorists. After all, the truth is vegans hate people. They would like nothing better than to get rid of all of the humans— except for a few scrawny vegans wearing hemp and frolicking godlessly around a cauldron of quinoa at some commune—- just to make more room for the pigs and chickens.

Well, anyway, some veal parmesan or a pulled pork sandwich and I’m in heaven. Animals don’t have souls by the way, though they sure are yummy, even if they‘ve suffered a lot somewhere along the way to the supermarket.

How my food tastes is pretty much all that matters to me. It’s not a baby calf, it’s my entrée. It’s not a pig, it’s my sandwich. So, f—- off !

That tasty stuff appeared at the supermarket by magic for all I care. The same goes for what keeps my car, refrigerator, freezer, and central air humming along. Don’t give a lab rat’s ass about where the long and winding power cord of my industrial life support machine might be plugged in.

Not knowing or caring is cool, maybe kind of manly.

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