So, who are the vegans? What do they eat? Where do they live? Why do they do it? And, again, what do they eat?
Unlike women or men, children or adults, black or white, gays and lesbians (often obvious depending upon your gaydar), vegans are not always easy to spot on the street. They’re not always thin. Their complexion is not always pasty (Tip: British vegans most likely thin and wan but not Homo sapien veganicus Floridiana who are thin and tanned). They aren’t always dressed by the House of Oxfam. Shoes are often a dead give away. Invariably, they’re not leather. If they are, they’ll be on their last legs, metaphorically speaking, like a well-worn pair of slippers difficult to give up. One easy way to spot Homo sapien veganicus normalis is when they’re on the hunt for food at the local supermarket. They like to read labels. Brave ones will ask questions. On rare occasions you will hear the plaintive cry, Is this vegan?
Who are the vegans? I know I can’t always rely upon my vegdar. So, are they aging hippies? Post-modern punks? Sociologists? Bankers? I can’t believe they’re ever anyone important, like a medical doctor. They can’t have a sense of humour. So, they must be traffic wardens. I think call centres only employ them. They never have a sense of humour.
Is there a secret club, like that one with the handshakes? They must have a ritual they perform when they shun society? Isn’t there a planet Vegan? Is it beyond Uranus? Oh my God! My new neighbours! They must be vegan! No children. Lots of rescued cats. Digging up the flower bed to grow tomatoes. They recycle. Don’t go to church. I heard strange drumming sounds last night. That’s a dead give away.
Do they have a religious conversion? They must have a ceremony. I bet they ritually slice open a bag of whole wheat pasta bought at the nearest Whole Foods. Is there a vegan God sitting on a holy compost heap in heaven? Do they become saints? I hear they often act like ones.
They must have been normal people once? Will they want to convert me? Like my gay friend tried to get me into bed once? They must want to take over the world? And kill all us meat-eaters. I bet they secretly admire Stalin, and read up on him. Does this mean I won’t be able to have milk in my tea when they come round? I’m not giving my cheese up for anyone!
