Meat 101
Meat & potatoes.
Potatoes & meat.
This, we’re told,
is what REAL men
eat.
And since f*ggots, feminazis
and minorities got the upper hand,
it’s one of the last legal ways left
to show you’re a HE, not a girly, man.
Slabs of two-inch thick sirloin,
raw red bleeding steak tartare,
slathered baby back ribs and
double bacon cheeseburgers are
food that’ll make a man out of you.
Food that’ll put hair on your chest.
Mmmmmmmeat! Man food good.
Man food better! Man food best!!!
Leave the fruits and vegetables
and dainty salads full of lettuce
to the pussies, wimps and sissies,
limp-wrist girly-men and f*ggots.
But…
the biggest, strongest animals
are usually strict vegetarians.
Do you see the dilemma?
Tell all that macho bullshit
to sperm whales, elephants and gorillas,
or that veritable vessel of testosterone,
the magnificent El Toro,
but no…
Real men don’t eat quiche. They’re
real mean and real lean. Yeah, right,
scarfing beer, hot wings and cheese fries
that make them belch and fart all night
as they sit on their flabby asses
watching pro athletes taking hits
glomming potato salad and beef tacos.
It’s no wonder they can’t sh*t.
Not to mention all that cholesterol
massing for a fatal attack.
Ah, but a real man can scrape off
all that atherosclerotic plaque
and ream out his own blood vessels
with just his two bare hands,
before he’ll be outdone
by any wimpy cardiac spasm.
Mmmmmmmeat, it’s the totem
of Big Strong Man the Hunter
who likes to think the lion,
wolf and tiger are his brothers.
But these snarling manly carnivores
never see where they get their meat.
It’s bopped, strangled, gutted and sold
as wrapped-in-plastic pieces
to spare him from puking out his guts
at the sights, sounds, and smells of slaughter,
but somehow he keeps thinking
meat gives him a hit of animal power
because once real men did hunt
to supplement their subsistence
and they believed the animals they killed
had offered up their existence
that man might live, so man honored them,
humbly receiving some of their strength
when man took animals’ bodies into his
with reverence, not contempt.
So what does it say about modern man
that meat tortured and executed for his delectation
is dispatched far from his sight
in the remotest of locations?
Man does no tracking, waiting, watching, chasing,
no fighting animals in a contest for life or death.
The quality transferred in this case
is the submissive, domesticated essence
of a powerless, castrated slave
reporting dutifully to do his work,
much like the neutered, corporate poodles
who become the grossest macho, meat-eating jerks
in an effort to prove their manhood
after they check it at the company door.
Farting, scratching, belching and bullying
is not what masculine strength evolved for.
If meat makes you such a goddamn man,
stand up and take care of, once and for all,
what’s really crawling around in your pants,
crushing and breaking your balls.
It’s not the wife, the kids and the dog,
or the guy who cut you off in a bigger truck,
it’s the way you’re forced to kiss the ass
of some arrogant, corporate supremacist sucker
who ripped off the benefits you contracted for,
sent all the best jobs to East Asia,
and then expects you to thank him for it
because he’s the one who pays you.
Do you think the sonofabitch could even begin
to do all that money-producing work on his own?
He needs you and your brothers to do it for him
then has the balls to toss the money-makers bones.
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