Dairy

Dairy: (n) a shop or company that sells milk, butter, cheese, etc.

 It is easy to be health conscious if you’re negating a food you dislike.

I can stop eating frog legs tomorrow.

I have no problem rejecting the value of collard greens.

But when it comes to foods I enjoy I may agree with the prissy righteousness of those who reject them but maintain some faith in my heart for private moments—when I succumb to the temptation to partake.

Actually, food is very simple.

If it occurs naturally—that is, in its present form—you can eat it.

For instance, a cow, cut up into steaks, is not a natural occurrence. Although I may wish to lobby for that cause, cows are supposed to come put together, not butchered.

On the other hand fruits, nuts, berries, vegetables and those sorts of offerings, are right out there in front of God, you, me and every bird of the sky.

That takes us to dairy.

Cow’s milk was never meant to be drunk by anybody but calves, just as human milk was intended for our little bambinoes. But then it deteriorates. Taking that milk, skimming off the fattest portions to make cream, then butter and ending up with cheese is many false evolutionary steps from natural.

This is why these foods are delicious—by devilish design.

I grew up in a generation that believed that milk was good for you and built strong bones. But it wasn’t actually the milk, but the calcium, which is also found aplenty…in broccoli.

 

Cow

Cow: (n) the mature female of a bovine animal

Cow is a word. Cow is a concept. Cow is a picture.

Cow is an animal. Cow is a creature. Cows live on farms.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

A farm is a concept. It is also a word.

Cows hang out in barns. Barns have hay. It piles up in lofts.

Cows give milk. Milk makes cheese.

Cheese gives us something on our burger so the bacon sticks and doesn’t slide off.

Cows sometimes have a cottage where they make cheese. Cows have udders. These are ‘udderly’ large nipples.

We are not allowed to say ‘nipples,’ at least, not without giggling.

But you see, all of these are antiseptic visions of a cow. They are representations. They are promotable units which can be pandered off to the masses.

If you were actually to go to a farm which has a barn wherein dwells a cow, you would learn very quickly that they smell bad. (Either the barn or the cow—maybe even the farm.) It’s not the cow’s fault. Hygiene is not a primary concern. Crevices are difficult to reach.

Cows also chew their cud, which once again, sounds reasonably harmless unless you’re watching them swish it around in their mouths like some sort of gooey, slimy hockey puck.

Watching cows being milked may cure you of your desire for dairy.

Trying to communicate with a cow will certainly give you a parallel to parenting.

And note—a cow’s constant friends are hundreds of flies, which blow them continually, and not in a pleasant way.

We also acknowledge that cows make beef products like steak and hamburger. But sometimes it’s best to show up to the party a little bit late so you don’t have to view what goes into arranging the decorations.

I can continue to eat hamburger as long as I don’t have to think about cows. Matter of fact, I have thought about cows just about as much as I wish or would ever want to think about again.

If you want to contemplate cows more, you should probably Google them, or risk going out into the countryside and carefully walking through the pasture to interview one.

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