Meat Bracket Entry
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Jared @The Carnivore Project, timed perfectly with March Madness, has posted the final round of The Meat Bracket, which aims to crown THE ULTIMATE MEAT.
It’s Bacon vs. Roast Chicken in the finals. Vote early and often, and don’t let bitter grapes about Tofu being shut out prevent you from performing your civic duties.
This entry is a rebuttal to an entry in The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.
I see Kangaroo has resorted to ad hominem attacks on tofu.
Shameful, really.
And in keeping in the spirit of dirty political maneuvers, Kangaroo twists Tofu’s own words to against itself to mischaracterize its policies and positions.
And Kangaroo starts a whisper campaign about Tofu’s alleged effect on the size of the male member.
Really low, and baselessly dishonest. In the world of political theater, this kind of stunt has a friendly bedfellow in George Bush’s hijinks during the 2000 Republican South Carolina primary. There, you’ll recall, Bush operatives played the racist card by claiming John McCain fathered an illegitimate Bengali child. They also said his lovely wife was hooked on prescription painkillers and was batshit insane. Kangaroo’s slurs and slanders bear the imprimatur of Karl Rove.
And just as it worked in South Carolina, I see in early voting patterns these slanderous lies are having the same effect on Tofu.
Kangaroo has no substantive policies from which to position itself as THE ULTIMATE, so it is relying simply on the trading of rumors, innuendo, and specious attacks that hit below the belt (literally).
The only thing Kangaroo can claim for itself is that it is healthy? It really wants to pick a battle with Tofu on its own turf? The sophistry! The absurdity of ludicrousnessosity of that premise is so laughable that I’m laughing so hard right now that I fell out of my chair ouch that hurt oh well it was so ludicrous to it was so worth it the pain you know so ludicrous.
Let me recap: Tofu is THE ULTIMATE. Just ask Jim Rutz.
Kangaroo is a furry marsupial. People flock to zoos in order to pay homage to this noble creature. So cute, so furry, so not-delicious. Healthy? Who the fuck wants healthy meat? You can’t braise kangaroo short ribs for hours in a La Cruset with red wine and cipollini onions. Kangaroo is an also-ran. It shouldn’t be invited to the kiddie table, much less make it to main event.
Kangaroo has nothing to run on, except slander, lies, and an appeal to the basest fears and discriminatory evils that lurk within the darkest hearts of mankind. I compel you to repudiate this atavism, to defenestrate the shackles of thousands of years of oppression.
First, they ignore you. Then they laugh at you. Then they fight you. Then you win.
This entry is a rebuttal to an entry in The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote. My name is Tofu and I approve this message.
This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.
First of all, I hear you. What you’re saying. How can tofu be THE ULTIMATE MEAT? It isn’t even a meat, in the conventional sense, in that it doesn’t come from, you know, an animal. Doesn’t something have to die before it can be considered meat? Tofu is made from a soybean! Understand? “Bean”? A vegetable?!? And, holy tits of santa, the soybean is green! A fucking green plant…considered meat…THE ULTIMATE MEAT? It’s a logical fallacy at its core, much like debating if the McRib sandwich is the ULTIMATE rib, or if Gwen Stefani is the ULTIMATE music artist (when it’s clear she is neither an artist nor what she actually barfs up can be considered music).
Like I said, I hear you. But I’m going to tell you why tofu is not only THE ULTIMATE MEAT, it’s THE ULTIMATE OF ANYTHING TO INFINITY.
Why?
This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.
Conventional wisdom demands that Buffalo Wings were first invented at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York. This is a benign story that neatly fits into an epistemologically narrow worldview, but like most racistly simplistic yarns, it relies on half-truths, innuendo, and overt generalizations.
The true story, rather, springs to life some 95 miles east/southeast of Buffalo, in the town of Canandaigua, a sleepy little fishing village that anchors a lake by the same name in upstate New York’s Finger Lakes region (also affectionately known as “America’s Gall Bladder”).
This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”. Click here to vote.
Shrimp, aka prawns. And, to a lesser extent, krill. Using the term “shrimp” and “prawn” interchangeably is a bit of a misnomer, as prawns are actually distinguished from the shrimp by the nature of their gills. But in common parlance the term “prawn” is commonly used to refer to the larger, yoked up specimen, i.e. the Barry Bonds of shrimp. And it’s important to note the prawn has a regular plural form, whereas shrimp can refer to one lonesome crustacean or a bevy (a flock? a murder?) of the little critters, putting them on the same solid linguistic footing as sheep and moose. That has to count for something.
And so does the fact that Red Lobster holds a yearly “Shrimpfest”, even though shrimp isn’t even in their name! You would presume they simply exist to serve their mighty overlord — the haughty and disdainful lobster, yet they see fit to celebrate the wonder and grandeur that is the shrimp with a wild celebration each year. You don’t see Red Lobster doing this for anything else. There’s no “Quailfest” or even a “Sea Urchin Roe Box Social.” People flock from miles away to Red Lobster each year to pay homage to the shrimp, downing dozens of shrimp that have been fried, sauteed, steamed (but mostly fried) in an all-you-can eat bacchanalian orgy of pink ecstasy.
This entry is a contestant for The Carnivore Project’s ongoing Meat Bracket, which aims to crown a lucky meatstuff “THE ULTIMATE MEAT”.
Lips and assholes.
That’s a common misconception when it comes to evaluating what’s in a hot dog. Or is it? My buddy Jimbo’s father worked at a Hormel plant in his formidable years, and he claimed Spam was the top flight mystery meat outfit coming out of Hormel’s Austin, Minnesota factory. Hot dogs, he claimed, well…watch out.
So how do you defend something that doesn’t even measure up to fucking spiced ham in a can, much less make a cogent argument that it deserves to be crowned THE ULTIMATE MEAT?