Why I Can’t Be Vegetarian
I understand why other people can be vegetarian. I have nothing against vegetarians. I’m not going to say “some of my best friends are vegetarians,” although that would be a true statement, because I hate people who say “some of my best friends are X,” as if that proves anything except that you know and like one or two people who are X. I know some good kids, and some of my friends have good kids, but that doesn’t mean I think kids are good in a general sense. They’re little rats. But I do understand why people might choose to be vegetarian and I respect that decision and so on.
On the other hand, I cooked chicken last night and I don’t think I’ve ever had chicken that perfect. I mean, talk about the juices being seared in and just the right amount of spices and it was perfect, I mean perfect. You’re never going to see me claiming to be the world’s greatest cook, but, wow. There are no words to describe that chicken. If I became vegetarian, I’d give up the chance of ever tasting that again. And I don’t think I could stand that thought because… yeah… wow. I cooked like never before! (I’m so proud of myself; can you tell? And a carnivore. I’m a total carnivore.)