Eat your meat!

If You Don’t Eat Your Meat, You Can’t Have Any Pudding! How Can You Have Any Pudding If You Don’t Eat Your Meat?

In a historic, virtually cataclysmic event the likes of which have never, ever occurred in my 25 years of column writing, Pink Floyd is the impetus for a column! You undoubtedly know by now that I maintain the Floydsters are not a rock-n-roll band, but instead a talentless bunch of wannabe musicians who, lacking any gift for rock, created a synthesized caterwauling of awfulness that became moderately popular with drug addicts and brain-damaged youth of America in the 1970s. Their sound, called “progressive rock,” means you cannot hum along to the song.

I know that trashing PF is an extreme position to take, so I offer proof of my position. I give you the case of Clinton Brewer, a 73-year-old gentleman in Ojai, California. Brewer is a lifelong resident of Ojai, meaning that his exposure to an atmosphere of legumes, sprouts, and nuts obviously played a role in his mental development and demise, but more than likely it was a constant imbibing of mind-altering chemicals while listening to Pink Floyd and trying to make sense of their gibberish that did him in. Just the other day, Brewer went into an Ojai vegan restaurant and, with a raw steak in each hand, started slapping the vegans in the face, yelling the famed line “If You Don’t Eat Your Meat, You Can’t Have Any Pudding! How Can You Have Any Pudding If You Don’t Eat Your Meat?”

Now, the fact he slapped 12 patrons before somebody tackled the 73-year-old is a testimony to the wimpiness of California vegans. The further fact that three granola-crunching “Califorinuts” went to a hospital for superficial wounds indicates that vegans are not the toughest crowd around. NFL HOF tight end Tony Gonzalez is a famed vegan, and I bet he would not have allowed a piece of red meat to slap his cheeks. Nope, these were California vegans, the soft, plump, helpless, wet-noodle sort.

What set off Brewer at this point in his otherwise PF-menaced life? Well, enough is enough, it appears. Ojai has a plenitude of vegan restaurants these days, but fewer and fewer red-meat steakhouses, according to Brewer. “Used to be a time you could choose from several different places to enjoy a steak on a Friday night. Now you’re lucky if you can find one. All these ‘meatless’ options are silly, overpriced, and Un-American. What about the folks that want some beef and don’t care for your unkept armpits and electric cars? Well, the town I love doesn’t give a sh** about us anymore!” Brewer said from jail. He’s not wrong!

Alas, this is America, not PF’s England, and while you are entitled to your opinion, you do not get to slap anybody because they are vegans, for even vegans have the liberty to be, well, vegan. In my life, I’ve met lots of pretend vegans, but never a real 100% committed devotee to the cause. These folks are called “chegans,” meaning they eat vegan nearly all the time, but deliberately slip up—probably most often in the presence of pizza or ice cream.

The fact that Brewer, at 73, stood up for what he believes indicates to me that his PF-poisoned brain finally overcame his sensibilities and took charge of his demented mind, resulting in mayhem at the eatery. Which proves my assertion that PF fans are either drug addicts or brain damaged. I’m not wrong.

One more thing. They set up grief counseling for those who had a piece of red meat touch their cheeks AND those who endured watching the uncooked bovine slices flying through the air. Afterwards they climbed into their EVs and headed to their tree houses. It is California, you know.

Kelly Burke, attorney, former district attorney and magistrate judge, writes about the law, rock’n’roll, and politics or anything that strikes him. Contact Kelly at dakellyburke@gmail.com to comment on this article or suggest articles that you’d like to see, and visit his website at www.kellyrburke.com to view prior columns.

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