Will you align with the forces of evil, the merchants of death, dismemberment, blood and refuse? Or will you make your life one of direct action? If so then your gonna need to purge your gods and your mufukken saints–they’re not vegan, just imaginary men in the sky and their followers believe that all animals, plants and beings are theirs to use.
Where’s the love in that, brother?
I get it. Some people need tchotchkes to get them through their day. Fine. But if you can’t get around your brainwashing then you’ll never be anything but a tool. Can I get an amen?!? I’m not saying you are a bad person if you’ve been brainwashed by the state, by god and country, only that you’re suffering from a case of spiritual bypass that enables the greediest among us, from tha ceo to tha congressmen to tha generals to the consumer, to fuck this planet up, and to torture and kill billions of innocent animals so they can eat their flesh and wear their skin. In god we trust, because your ass belongs to pink and your head belongs to the state. Can I get an amen?!!
Just as scientists and laymen have dreams of colonizing Mars, so too do people look to the sky to find meaning. And yet all along we’ve been directly connected to this marvelous, intricate planet that surrounds us, that spawned us, that’s our true progenitor and giver of life. And what did we pious people do to it? We raped it, killed its human and non-human children, scarred its face and body, drained its blood. A-motha-fuckin-men! We polluted its air, the savage, fucked up species that we are. We conquered and ruined this spectacular orb in the name of god and country, in the name of clean coal, gleaming chrome, pocket computers and budweiser. Hallelujah!
We’re a fucked up lot. No wonder so many people feel the need for absolution come Sunday–it’s not just blood on our hands, it’s splattered all over our walls, our clothes, it’s dripping off our faces and in our hair. We drink it and dine on it, we feast on the blood of others. That’s why I’ve made every day my church. Skip the yoga and your gluten-free pizza. You’re not even celiac you dolt, no matter what you think your “body” tells you, you’re just miserable, hollowed out fuckers looking for a reason to live. Might as well go pop a xanax, as much good as that GF-free diet will do ya. Amen to that, brother!
Get it while you still can: stop eating corpses, their bones, their blood and their bodily fluids. Gross, lazy-ass mofos just gotta have that chicken nugget, cuz it tastes so, so good, huh? Spineless twerps, the lot.