Can our soyboys handle beef with the balkans?

The United States is carefully following a trajectory for a new Balkan War. But how does the liberal establishment’s stance on meat consumption complicate the situation?

     Recently, I had reason to peruse a few of the local boulangeries. I was celebrating something: My newly leased multi-bedroom apartment (which you may be aware of if you have subscribed to my personal twitter account). I had been in the mood for a new sandwich, one which presented itself with a proper meat ratio. A tall order, I know what with adequate meat fillings being almost entirely extinct in today’s climate. We crossed the rubicon long ago and traded a world where men’s hands were thick with callouses from a hard day’s work. Rough to the touch like the top of a sandy sea star. And look, I admit I like to moisturize as much as anyone, but what’s it costing us to have these fragile man-babies defending our coasts and skies?

      I made my way from shop to shop at an impressive pace, trying to locate just the right sandwich for my afternoon meal. To my shock and dismay, nearly every single establishment had already given in to the social pressure of the American greenback. And I’m not talking about the heavily inflated dollar. I’m speaking of course of the soyman’s fuel: the so called  “vegetarian option.” I was stunned. Feeling dazed and weak I tumbled ever forward, my heels occasionally finding ground on a different eatery’s tile floor. Always met with the same bumbling explanation: “Actually, that’s all the meat we can fit on there.” Is this where we are heading? Some absurd parallel universe where the grand Ottoman Empire simply cedes its territory to the vegetable munching Serbs? Drifting toward the wastepaper basket of history. We turn but to ash and are carried to the wind by a deep sigh from John Locke’s ghost. Corner after corner, I turned. My open toed shoes catching beads of sweat from the sweltering heat of upper Georgetown.

     And wander I shall, until the tides of time set us on a course anew. Until then, I must simply make do with an old standby: bag of beef jerky.

Signed,

A free, if tortured, soul.