I would say that over the past 32 odd years I have eaten meat at least once a day. Thinking back over the last month there has not been a day go by without me eating at least a bite of meat. I can eat meat three or more times a day, and often do. Bacon for breakfast, a pie for morning tea, a hamburger for lunch, some salami meat as a snack and a steak for dinner. My favourite meals, like a mixed grill, feature meats from several different animals.
I’m not mammalo-centric, either. There isn’t an example of the Animal Kingdom I wouldn’t like to see hacked to bits and placed on a bbq. Crustaceans, avians, molluscs, fish, hell, I’d eat a reptile if I could buy parts of them at the supermarket in a little plastic tray.
Some people go to the zoo to see the cute animals, and I can’t help thinking to myself, “I wonder how big a giraffe chop would be.” I’m proud to say I have eaten our nations offical animal, the kangaroo, and found him to be delicious. I know all that meat can’t be good for me, but I don’t want to go to the grave regretting that I never ate a sloth.
As I tell my religious, vegetarian friends in jest (all five hundred of them), if god didn’t want us to eat animals, he wouldn’t have made them out of meat.