I grew up on a farm, ate parts of dead critters with relish. as well as drinking gallons of whole milk, chomping lots of bread and butter (my mom was a great bread maker), the all-American death sentence. However, I was an active little cherub and burnt off the cholesterol.
Things have changed. Sedentary city ways led to ballooning cholesterol levels, hypertension, etc. Then, in late-blooming maturity, I was even able to consider the moral aspects of meat eating.
They don’t raise critters the way they did when I was a kid.
Factory farms. Critters crowded together in a small space creating tons of manure. Rotting animal parts. Methane.
It’s immoral. It’s immoral to the critter. It’s immoral to the earth. It is immoral.
Nevertheless, sometimes I sneak off to eat a beefsteak — an exquisite cut from a perfectly aged hunk of dead critter, seared on the outside but just this side of cooked on the interior, naked with nuthin’ but a bit salt, garlic, a few other herbs — God forbid — No Ketchup!
If you kill a critter to eat a steak, let not it’s death be in vain. Treat the carcase with reverence and respect.
And, for God’s sake, do not cook its tasteful essence out of it and smother it with ketchup!
And, I am seriously trying to become a vegan. It is a trial.