Wearing an Army cap, but long AWOL on diet and fitness, you are the overweight, puffy, out-of-shape heart attack in waiting. I am sitting across the aisle from you with a plateful of morbid fascination as you contentedly shovel sliced franks with mustard over Sloppy Joes, pieces of bacon and corned beef hash into your mouth . . . for BREAKFAST . . . without any sense of consequence, as if tomorrow it may all be gone everywhere in the world. I’m not totally off meat myself, but this was stunning. Bud, please do yourself, your bowels, your arteries and all of us who have to share the planet with you a big favor and change your fucking diet. Rainforests that are being raped to supply the land to grow feed for the livestock your insatiable appetite craves, the atmosphere that is being loaded with heat-trapping cow farts and, most important, the type of animal you resemble but nonetheless eat 24/7 will all thank you.
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