Sometimes it’s hard being a right-wing republican and maintaining a vegan diet. There aren’t a lot of us out there and it can be an alienating experience. When I go out to dinner with my friends and coworkers, all of whom share the same political beliefs as I, they often want to go to a steakhouse. I gave up red meat about the same time I gave up believing in welfare, and for similar reasons (the concept of helping the lazy take advantage of the system was clogging my arteries).
Just yesterday I tried to explain to a Whole Foods employee that abortion is murder but he was more interested in restocking his tomato sauce than listening to reason. So I said fine, just point me to where the firm tofu is and I won’t bother you with God’s will any longer. Turns out they didn’t have any firm tofu left anyway, just the really soft kind, the kind democrats buy. Soft on the issues, crumbly, not good for much of anything other than a stir-fry. See, I’m baking my tofu in an oven like an American, not mixing it around a big pan like some Chinese immigrant.
So I headed over to the health food store, where I discovered the last box of Tofutti Cuties they had was slightly opened. I asked a homosexual employee if they had any more in the back. It wasn’t exactly a question. I phrased it more as, “You’re going to hell for your lifestyle. Two men should not be together. When you meet your maker and you will meet Him, he is going to cast you so far into hell the devil will light your face on fire and you’ll be torn apart by demons over and over again for eternity. And this box of Cuties is slightly open.”
Turns out it was the last box of Cuties, unless I wanted the mint version, but I don’t want the mint version. This is how homosexuality starts. You go into the store to buy a box of Tofutti Cuties and end up with the mint version. Next thing you know you’re having anal sex with a man in a public park and killing babies.
Look, I’m not going to lie to you, I bought the slightly opened box of Tofutti Cuties. Because I do my part for America. Because I don’t blame the government for my own failures. Because I like a little treat after watching Burn Notice. So sue me. It’s your right. But if you do you better have a good lawyer. Come after me and my Cuties and I’m going for your family, which includes your grandmother.
I wish someone would open a vegan grocery store for truth-seekers like myself, a believer in American life. Why does a lesbian with a nose ring and a tank top that says “Vagitarian” have to ring me up for a seitan steak, a ¼ lb bag of carob powder, and a canister of red miso paste? You’re probably wondering why I buy red miso over white miso. It’s because it is the more assertive of the two misos. Heartier, pungent. White miso is more delicate. “Faggy” you might say. “I love this miso,” the lesbian cashier said to me last week. “Heartier,” she says to me, “more pungent than the white.” Unbelievable. All I heard was “I support terrorists who want to destroy the American way of life.”
Sometimes the state of things gets to be too much for me. Democrats, women. Stresses me out. Yoga relaxes me. ‘Helps me get in touch with my inner unborn child who deserves to live. It’s often in downward dog when I let go of the fact that affirmative action prevents the right applicant from getting the job. I like seeing things from different perspectives and yoga helps my mind see things in a different light of Christ, who by the way is coming back.