When I told Jonathan Safran Foer that I get my turkey from a place in Brooklyn that only sells fresh, grass-fed, organic, cage-free, well-groomed, gorgeous, well-educated Turkeys…he ruined it.
“Unlikely, ” he said. “That turkey most definitely comes from a factory farm.”
I am not sure I can be friends with Jonathan anymore, after he said “most definitely.” I’m not sure I can be friends with anyone who would say “most definitely.”
A few weeks ago, I read a copy of Saffy’s new book, EATING ANIMALS. And now–just like Oprah, Ellen, Natalie Portman, all the other Huffpo readers and Anderson Cooper–I’m fucked.
No, Natalie. But I am about to. Here’s how it’s all gonna go down. You ready?
I am on a farm in Illinois right now. For real. For the next 8 hours, in support of Jonathan Safran Foer’s new book, I have decided to go vegan. Then, at 6pm, I have decided to eat this turkey:
I have told the turkey about this. He is aware and seems fine with it. He is preparing himself. He has even asked about the gravy.
Tomorrow morning, while everyone is out buying home electronics on sale, I am going to Barnes & Noble in Chicago, and I am going to purchase, out of guilt, every remaining copy of EATING ANIMALS, which I will give out next week in Times Square outside Ruth’s Chris steakhouse…
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