“How do you know if someone is a vegan?” goes the old joke, “Don’t worry, they’ll tell you.”
Veganism has one of the worst reps of any kind of -ism. No one likes a vegan. I am a vegan and even I can’t stand vegans. They are superior and self-righteous. Friends who invite you over for dinner loathe you; restaurants loathe you; and everyone else loathes you too because you are implicitly judging them with your lame carrot and hummus sandwich while they go big on a bucket of chicken wings.
Needless to say, I am not in the vegan gig for the cachet of being a vegan. And for the record, I am no animal lover either. I will not coochy-coo over your ratty, barky, small dog and I do not think your inane, slobbering, big dog is a Good Boy. I am as apathetic toward cats, in all their anus-licking, own-vomit-eating glory, as they are toward me.
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