Posts Tagged ‘PETA’

From the Midtown Messenger:

PET-V’s release pointed to the seminal example of the late anthropologist Carlos Castaneda, whose training as a Yaqui Indian medicine man included not only talking to plants, but constantly apologizing to them, especially to the female specimens of dioecious, or sexually differentiated, varieties. Shortly prior to his death a decade ago, Castaneda said plants, including fresh salads, had finally begun talking back to him, and that while–unlike erstwhile comedian and noted amateur early childhood development specialist Steve Martin, he does not “speak baby talk”–he could detect especially heart-rending sighs and plaintive-sounding whispers when consuming underage salad ingredients, especially chervil.



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My father – constantly on the lookout for new ways for me to become raving, bat-shit insane – sent me this article from Yahoo! News. It’s all about vegans who won’t stoop to sexing with meat eaters because they feel like they’re shtupping “a graveyard for animals.” While this is an interesting idea, I think it’s mostly just the sign of an over-active imagination and some pretty serious neuroses. As a reasonably squeamish vegetarian, I generally just draw the line at not making out while my partner is in the process of eating ribs.

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Sexiest Carrot Aliiiive

PETA, best known as the people responsible for whatever gory meat-making video made you turn veg for the worst 3 months of your life (ahem, jbm), turn out to also be shameless celebrity-humpers just like us!

Now, they’re asking us to vote on who is the World’s Sexiest Vegetarian!

Some interesting entries on the ballot: Chelsea Clinton, Lauren Bush (actually not surprising, but I guffawed when I first read it because I thought it said Laura Bush), Serenity (WTF? What is that?), and Princess Superstar! I like that rapping about pussies and fucking Kool Keith raw is enough to get you noticed by PETA.

For the boys, we’ve got some real winners. (I’m a little worried about Plainclothesman getting caught between X-Filing and Pearl Jamming, if you know what I mean.) I’m enjoying a fantasy of Bob Barker, Dennis Kucinich, Common, Casey Kasem, GZA, John C. Reily, Jonathan Safran Foer, JTT, Leonard Nimoy, Little Richard, Prince, and Weird Al battling it out. It’s a lot to imagine. Wow.

Weirdly enough, though it is a ‘worldwide’ contest there is a separate category for “International.” Whatever, PETA, I guess you were too busy doing extra credit in life sciences to pay attention in geography.

Last year’s winners were Prince (yess!) and Kristen Bell (What? Seriously? Is she on the WB? I mean the CW?). Shania Twain got crowned in 2001 and I like thinking about her in I Heart Huckabees telling off Jude Law. 2003 winner Josh Hartnett has a lovely story about his turn to the vag – I mean veg: “One day I was cutting up a chicken for my mom, and I hit a tumor with the knife. There was [pus] and blood all over the place. That was enough for me.”

Ew! Sick. It’s enough for me too. And did he not really say pus? I’m confused.

OK, go make your voices heard!

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Bon Vivant Diner: located on Broadway b/w 11th & 12th Streets

This diner is pricey. Probably too pricey. It’s decent though. But nothing to scream and shout over. Though, their milkshakes are tasty. Recklesley was so taken by the chilled drink she proposed there be a way to, “inject [the] milkshake directly into [her] veins.” We Brooklyn Skeptics prefer sugary treats over liquid heroin. We feel you just get more out of it.

As for the service, the waitstaff seemed pretty competent, for the most part anyway. At one point during the meal I, the author, asked our waiter for the location of the (women’s) powder room, and my question was met with the response, “yeah, sure.” Hmmm, interesting answer. Interesting and not at all helpful. (No need to fret, I eventually found the restroom on my own. Because I am a champion.)

There isn’t really anything more to be said about Bon Vivant Diner (English translation: Good [Something] Diner). It was pretty mediocre in all respects. My overall opinion: Nay-ish.

*I should point out that this diner is not in Brooklyn. Sorry.

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