[b]Jonathan Safran Foer
Once upon a time, USDA inspectors had to condemn any bird with such fecal contamination. But about thirty years ago, the poultry industry convinced the USDA to reclassify feces so that it could continue to use these automatic eviscerators. Once a dangerous contaminant, feces are now classified as a “cosmetic blemish.”.[/b]
I smell crony capitalism, don’t you?
It’s true, I am afraid of dying. I am afraid of the world moving forward without me, of my absence going unnoticed, or worse, being some natural force propelling life on. Is it selfish? Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do?
It does though, doesn’t it?
I decided then and there never to become someone who told jokes when explanations were impossible.
What the hell does that even mean?
Someone needed to invent a way to be close to people without having to see them, or talk to them on the phone, or write (or read) letters, or e-mails, or texts.
Any particular reason why?
I couldn’t explain my need to myself, and that’s why it was such a beautiful need.
Either that or terrifying.
There is something about eating animals that tends to polarize: never eat them or never sincerely question eating them; become an activist or disdain activists.
Yep, I think he nailed it.