What if they had a war on meat and nobody came because they were all at dinner?

This bit in The Conversation reminds me of that time I was attending some protest in the city, way back in the 1980s, and I was hungry, so I bought a whopper from Hungry Jack’s. (That’s the down under version of Burger King, for American readers).

So I’m standing there, eating my whopper, smashing the state, fighting the man, whatever, and this chick comes up to me to ask me what the fuck I think I’m doing.

It was a long time ago, and I can’t give you an accurate description of how she was dressed, or what she looked like, but I can tell you, I knew immediately that she was one of the protesters, not one of the Oppressors. But she laced into me with extreme prejudice and hostility, because of the burger. She wanted me to know that I was destroying the planet. No, I said, I’m pretty sure I’m just having my dinner. That set her off even more. I remember the feeling of being a bit hurt and confused decades later. I was just here to smash the state, and maybe have a feed, and I was getting trashed for it by one of my own.

It all came back to me when I saw the headline in the conversation about a “war on meat?” S’funny the things we remember.