My Quixotic Quest to Convert Carnivores

For most people, the holidays are a time of unparalleled joy and merriment. Ostensibly good food is served, gifts are received, and all forms of excess become acceptable. What's not to love? Sure, stomachs may become a bit more robust and wallets more, but all in all, most everyone agrees with that oft-played yuletide tune that "it's the most wonderful time of the year." (Hopefully, you sang that part for full effect.)

For me, however, the holidays are a harbinger of depression, not bliss. They bring to mind harsh realities rather than the fabled dreams of sugar plums. Instead of being filled with gratitude when the gluttonous feast is set before me, I am overcome by an acute sense of failure, a sense that's reinforced by every barbaric bite I witness. All of my family members and all of my friends persist in their carnivorous ways even as they claim to be both compassionate and rational. And this is true in spite of my truly herculean efforts to convert them.

At first, I tried to appeal to logic. I related the masterful argument of Peter Singer and mistakenly assumed that my most enlightened relatives would be reformed posthaste. After all, these people had to be rational if they were related to me, and I knew that Singer's argument could not be refuted. My plan was foolproof...or so I thought. In part my predictions proved correct; none of my friends or family were able to offer a real counterargument. Even so, they continued contradict Singer's contentions with their meat-intensive diet. I was shocked and quickly lost respect for everyone I tried to convert. Upon failing with family members, I started to question the integrity of my genes; with friends, I merely questioned my judgment.

But veganism is a moral and environmental imperative so I persevered in my quixotic quests at persuasion. Realizing that no one cared about philosophy, I decided to make an environmental appeal instead. Because there are only about seven environmentalists in my lovely red state, I knew this approach could only be employed selectively. But given the substantial environmental degradation wrought by animal agriculture, I again assumed that this argument would be wildly effective at converting my few environmental friends. And again, I was only half right. None of them denied the argument, but all of them denied the lifestyle change it entailed. Admittedly, some were vegetarian to begin with, but these individuals were unwilling to go any further, and the carnivores displayed the same insurmountable inertia. My entreaties ran up against the usual half-hearted, nay, heartless excuses: "That's just too extreme" or "I love meat way too much." You're right guys. Your need for a juicy steak is way more important than the planet's need for, oh I don't know, water. How silly of me to even ask...

Crestfallen once more, I decided to try yet another approach. Devoid of compassion myself, I chose to skip over the PETA-esque argument and appeal directly to self-interest, something I can relate to. Feeling like a total hypocrite with each successive utterance, I implored everyone to eschew meat for their health alone. Don't do it for the animals or the environment, I told them, do it for yourself. Do it so you don't have a heart attack when you're forty. Do it so you don't get cancer early or break your hip (it turns out that milk isn't exactly the miracle worker that the dairy industry says it is). And most importantly, do it so I don't have to be repulsed every time I see your fat a--your rotund person walking past me.

Having read quite extensively about vegan nutrition, I was able to make this argument very effectively. And unlike my past attempts, this approach met with a modicum of success. My mom switched to soymilk and reduced her consumption of other animal products significantly. My father, the former dairy farmer, chose to forsake his health and stubbornly refused to voluntarily change his ways. But, because my mom is the one who buys the food, he is accidentally eating healthier nowadays too. Meanwhile, my theoretically health-conscious brother went so far as to consider (but not actually adopt) eating one vegan meal per week, and my cancer-plagued grandpa nominally converted for about a week and a half after my pleading. (He has since relapsed.) That's right. This is the sum total of my success--and, tragically, it's an improvement.

But before I get too carried away with a sense of triumph, I have to note the critical flaw here. To the extent that anyone changes at all, they only adopt a policy of moderation, not abstinence. This is unfortunate for the planet and the animals of course, but it also pretty much nullifies the health benefits of the vegan diet. Most Americans eat such an absurd amount of animal products right now that cutting back a little just doesn't accomplish much. Long-term health benefits become noticeable when animal protein consumption drops below 10% of one's daily Calories. And most Americans get around 20% of Calories from said protein. No wonder our healthcare costs are so high...

So even though some people have cut back, it's fair to say that my nutrition tactic was a failure just like all the rest. Clearly,appealing to the mind alone was a futile endeavor, because even though my arguments were never rejected, they were never sufficient to justify the supposed sacrifice involved. Thus, ever an innovator, I realized that I needed to prove that being vegan wasn't a sacrifice at all. I had to show the world that vegans can indeed eat delicious food. (And we get to eat so much more of it.) To say that going vegan is a sacrifice is patently false. It's like saying that country music is enjoyable, or that America promotes democracy, or that Fox News (or any of the others for that matter) is fair and balanced. I think you get the idea.

With this logic in tow, I set out to become a vegan chef. And while I must admit that my first few creations weren't exactly crowd pleasers, nowadays I'm a regular culinary artist. As evidence, I point to the fact that even my stubborn father has approved of my work. He described a recent dessert of mine as "nonvegan," which was probably the most awkward compliment I've ever received. Anyways, the point is that I have conclusively shown that being vegan does not mean being deprived of taste. On Christmas Eve, my brother actually put back the ham so that he could have another one of my grilled tofu strips. I don't mean to brag, but the truth is that my food does not simply compete with traditional faire, it wins. And yet, I've still converted no one. Now it's no longer a sacrifice; it's just too "inconvenient." After all, I'm constantly informed that not everyone has time to cook all day. (Apparently I do). So once again, my assumptions proved fallacious. How silly of me to inconvenience them. I'm sure their diet was very convenient for the cow--you know, the one that's dead because of them.

And now, after being defeated in so many different ways, I cannot help but throw my hands up and wave the white flag of surrender. I have addressed every excuse. I have refuted every argument. Somehow, I have still failed, and the inevitable holiday feast is an unwelcome reminder of that fact. So please forgive me if I don't share your Christmas cheer. Because while you're thinking of Santa and sugarplums, I'll be thinking about all the suffering--of the planet, the poor, the animals--that I couldn't prevent. But worst of all, I know you will suffer also; you, the people I love and cannot hope to respect.

Baseball Is Outdated; America Needs a New Pastime

Baseball is generally considered to be America's pastime. However, upon attending a recent college football (BSU vs. Oregon... and yes, it was awesome), I'm inclined to disagree. Football is a much more appropriate obsession for warrior society like ours. Warrior society, you ask? Allow me to explain.

First off, I must pay baseball its due respect. Baseball has served us well as a pastime for many years. It gave us Babe Ruth, a legend first and then a not-so-delicious candy bar that borrowed his name. (A red, white and blue candy bar for the record.) Baseball also allowed us to relate Teddy Roosevelt's Big Stick diplomacy to something besides the phallus--surely a boon middle-school history teachers everywhere. (Phallus means penis by the way.) But now, this passive, cordial sport just isn't compatible with our society.

I can't deny that baseball still has some distinctly American traits. For instance, it's one of the few sports where athleticism is not required of the athletes. I'm not saying there isn't skill involved of course--Hell, I struck out in tee-ball--but it suffices to say that baseball players aren't exactly Spartans when it comes to physical fitness. And why should they be? If they don't play in the outfield, the longest possible sustained bout of activity is a 360-foot sprint--and that only happens if they hit an inside-the-parker. Another authentically American aspect of the sport is its demographics, i.e. almost entirely white. I was going to make a sweeping generalization here that baseball consists of a bunch of old, fat, rich white guys watching young, not-quite-as-fat, rich white guys. I thought that might be a bit unfair though so I decided to look it up. It turns out I wasn't too far off. Rich people and old people are more likely to watch baseball than others according to a Gallup Poll. (Admittedly, it said nothing about their race or weight, so I'm still assuming a little.) Similarly, 59.5 percent of the players are white. (Again, sadly no data on weight, or at least none that I cared to dig up.) And lastly, is there anything more American than the hot dog, a nondescript mixture of fat that tastes great as long as you don't think too much. (That's a pretty good metaphor for our country now that I think about it...) But I digress...

In spite of all of these wonderful American traits, it's high time that we changed America's pastime to football. There were other sports in the running of course. Take Nascar for instance. Yes, with its flagrant waste of energy, profligate amounts of pollution, disdain for athleticism, and totally unrefined fan base, Nascar was a serious competitor. Golf was also in the running thanks to its inherent elitism and reprehensible use of water and land. (More on this coming soon.) But in the end, football is the clear victor.

To understand why, let's first consider tailgating. Dedicated fans take drive down to the stadium several hours before kickoff to have a barbeque. Of course, to get everything there, they will almost certainly be driving a big I'm-compensating-for-something truck or SUV. (Why do they have this truck you ask? Well, it's probably because they use its payload capacity once a year to go four-wheeling or boating.) Then they spend the afternoon eating conventional American food like hamburgers or the aforementioned nondescript fat mixture, and drinking all the cheap beer they can lay their hands on. And let's not forget the implements for consumption. If we're lucky, they'll use paper plates and not styrofoam, but it's all disposable. The beer bottles and cans are recyclable of course, but at the Oregon, no bins were available. Awesome. Tailgating pretty much maxes out on American-ness. Overconsumption of fossil fuels, check. Horribly unhealthy food, check. Lots of unnecessary waste, check.

(If my opinion of tailgating seems overly harsh, it's probably because last week they literally didn't have anything for me to eat. I am ruled by my stomach you know...)

Recently, I heard a great tongue-in-cheek description of football from a fitness instructor. It went something like this: "Football is a sport where eleven people on the desperately need rest and thousands of people in the stands desperately need exercise." Oh how true that is. I think there's a practical reason Bronco Stadium has benches instead of seats; people wouldn't fit. I'm thinking now of that vocal bearded gentleman in my section who completes his look with a ponytail, sunglasses, and a textbook overflowing tuck-in job. You know what I'm talking about. It's where the shirt is tucked in, but the fat still manages to spill over the top. So sexy.

These are critical features of course, but the most American aspect of football is the violence. It's our modern-day equivalent of gladiatorial combat. It's an acceptable way to satisfy our primal bloodlust. That's why we admire big hits and there's an entire segment on Sportscenter called Jacked Up. And I know we pretend to be concerned when someone gets injured, but let's face it: we don't start cheering till he GETS OFF THE FIELD.

And what about the flyover before kickoff? Never mind how stupid it is to fly a plane so some people can see you flying a plane. Why does everyone cheer? I understand pledging allegiance to the flag; it represents freedom (or it did at least). But what do fighter jets symbolize if not the American empire? Some may say they protect our freedom, but there haven't been hostile planes in our airspace since Pearl Harbor. They are a symbol of American domination, not merely security. Here they inspire ignorant cheers, abroad they excite the deepest fears. We're cheering for the home team, with the knowledge that we can't lose. Deep down, we know we're kicking the bad guys' asses (even though we don't know who they are). So we cheer for the planes like we cheer for the free safety; our bloodlust must be satisfied.

America's pastime needs to be updated. Baseball served us well, but now it's far too civil. And football captures the essence of Americanism: it's wasteful and it's violent. What more could we ask?

Sustainable Soy Milk Packaging

As a vegan, I consume a lot of soy milk. I'm also an environmentalist. Thus, I hate the fact that I can't recycle the soy milk containers. They aren't just regular cardboard and the wax coating clogs most recycling machines. So even though your curbside recycling program may take them, chances are the operators probably are just throwing them out at the plant. (Only select communities in 26 states actually recycle them. You can check to see if yours is one of them here.) As an idealist, this situation has been troubling for some time--everything else I buy can be recycled. Recently, I investigated this problem a little more thoroughly.

Some Background

If you're truly an environmentalist, you have to be vegan. I'm not going to bore with you the statistics right now, but suffice to say, animal-based foods are produced very inefficiently compared to regular produce. As a result, becoming vegan is the best way to dramatically reduce one's ecological footprint. There are many other good reasons to become vegan--for instance, maybe you like to be healthy or maybe you love animals--but the point I'm trying to get across is that environmental concerns are probably the top priority for many vegans.

For anyone who doesn't know, vegans are individuals who abstain from consuming any animal products whatsoever. Unlike vegetarians, we don't eat eggs, fish, or dairy products. For some strange reason, dairy is particularly ubiquitous in the American diet so replacing cow's milk is pretty much the top priority when you become vegan. Fortunately, there are plenty of alternatives available: soy, rice, oat, almond, and even hempseed milk are commonly sold at most supermarkets now. (The reason there's so many choices is that each of these "milks" is really just the product, say soybeans, blended with water.) I decided to go with soy milk, in part because I prefer the taste, but mostly because it's the best value and I'm really cheap--er, frugal that is. And I can honestly say I don't miss "regular" milk at all. But I do miss the package.

You see all these non-dairy milks have two things in common: First off, obviously none of them were designed to make a baby calf gain more than three hundred pounds in about six months. And secondly, none of them come in a standard gallon-size milk jug. Soy and rice milk can usually be purchased in half-gallon waxed cardboard containers, and the other common form of packaging is the quart-sized aseptic containers that don't require refrigeration. Like I said before, I'm cheap, so this is irritating from a financial perspective. But more importantly, I strive very hard to live sustainably. and this packaging makes it exceedingly hard to do so. More material is used since I have to buy smaller quantities and that extra material is only recyclable in 26 states. And since my state is about as green as Exxon Mobil, it doesn't happen to be included in that elite list. For now, I have to begrudgingly recycle only the plastic cap. This is literally the only thing I purchase that isn't recyclable. But I can't stop. Fortified soy milk provides me with the necessary amount of vitamin B12 so I don't go crazy, and it's really essential for making delicious oatmeal and shakes. Besides, who really has time to make their own soy milk?

The (Failed) Crusade

Well, recently I decided to do something about this conundrum. I can't move and I don't want to give up soy milk so I decided to contact the companies themselves. I mean I can't be their only customer who's worried about recycling right? Because as we've already mentioned, there's definitely a correlation between being vegan and being concerned about the environment. In fact, one soy milk brand, Silk, has incorporated this fact into their marketing strategy. That's why each and every non-recyclable carton has one full panel dedicated to explaining that Silk uses 100% wind power for its operation. Surely this company would be receptive to my entreaties for greener packaging right?

I wrote to the Private Selection Organics label from Kroger and Silk and told them about my problem. I explained that I loved their product but really wanted something recyclable. I asked them why soy milk couldn't just be packaged like cow's milk? I also informed them that I would probably be a lifelong customer of whatever brand created a recyclable container first. It's that important to me. Here are their responses:

From Kroger:

...The aseptic packaging is an essential asset to our products for providing extended shelf life without the need for refrigeration; cost efficient distribution; and protection of the product's flavor, nutrition, and quality...

Now this is a totally political answer. I obviously understand that not having to refrigerate something lowers distribution costs. But the half-gallon containers do need refrigeration. What about those? Moreover, if this packaging so much more efficient, which it might actually be, why don't they package cow's milk the same way. As of this writing, they have not gotten back to me about these concerns.

From Silk:

At this point there are no nation-wide recycling standards. Each state and jurisdiction has different recycling rules based on cost-effectiveness, quantities of the materials in circulation and regional differences.

We are an environmentally concerned company and will always strive to use the most earth-friendly packaging available. Your comments are appreciated and we will not rule out any future changes, but at this point we feel that we are using the most environmentally friendly and cost effective packaging for our products.

Thank you White Wave Foods, for telling me exactly what I already know. I know there's no nationwide recycling standards; that's kind of why I'm writing--my state sucks at recycling. And though I'm glad you "strive to use the most earth-friendly packaging available," it seems that you are failing to do so if residents from 24 states can't recycle it. Then again, I'm not sure what I expected from these guys. They promise to disregard all suggestions right at the bottom of their contact form.

From Silk:

We love to hear your comments and encourage you to give us feedback; however, please understand that we cannot accept suggestions for new products, advertising, promotions, etc. from anyone outside of our company. This is necessary to prevent any misunderstandings as to the origin of ideas.

Wait, what? You can't accept new ideas?. Then why the hell am I filling out this form? This is literally a suggestion box with a disclaimer explaining that all suggestions will be ignored. I'm glad I don't buy this brand anyways because I really don't want to support this kind of idiocy. I want to give them feedback about this, but, I'm sure that'd be ignored too so..

So there you have it. Soy milk will continue to be a perpetual blemish on my otherwise sustainable lifestyle because apparently these companies don't really care about satisfying their customers.

Silver Lining, Almost...

In my quest to justify my unrecyclable soy milk purchase, I came across some interesting information that might put a positive spin on everything. How could Silk maintain that it was using the most cost-effective and most environmentally-friendly packaging if wasn't recyclable in very many places? Were they simply placating or was there some substance to their claims.

It kind of caused me to rethink this whole thing. The best solution of course would be to expand recycling operations in my accursed red state, but I know that's not much of a priority in the current economic climate. Thus, answering one question becomes paramount: Is it better to have a recyclable container made from non-renewable petroleum or a disposable one made out of renewable resources? Obviously, I'm pulling for the latter. Maybe I should be writing to the dairy farmers instead.

I don't have a conclusive answer yet, but some hopeful signs come from an article by The New York Times that I linked to above. Apparently, Walmart and Costco debuted a new square milk jug design about a year ago. The impetus for the switch was that traditional milk jugs are actually a very inefficient way to transport milk, as illustrated by this comparison chart from the article. Regular milk jugs have to be loaded in crates and carried by hand, but the new-fangled variety is stackable so machines can shrink wrap many jugs together on large palettes. Space is utilized much better, as the article explains:

By eliminating the crates, the new containers store 4.5 gallons of milk in a cubic foot--50 percent more than the 3 gallons stored in a cubic foot with the old jugs.

When the milk arrives at the destination, the cardboard in between each layer of the new jugs is recycled. On the other hand, the milk crates for the old jugs have to be reloaded on the truck, taking up valuable space. Then the crates have to be washed back at the dairy. On the whole, the new jugs result in major water savings, fewer trips by huge semis, lower costs for consumers, and fresher milk, even if it is terribly unhealthy. What's not to like?

Change.

There was a huge consumer outcry against the new design. Apparently, pouring these jugs required a different technique, so many people spilled on their initial attempts. As you might imagine, my community isn't the first to get these innovations, but the article implied that Walmart was intent on making this a nationwide thing. Yet now, over a year after that article was published, I have yet to see a single square jug at my local Costco or Walmart. I think it's safe to say that the consumers killed innovation.

In a very strange sort of way, I guess it's consoling to know that regular milk jugs are bad for the environment too. I also read that cartons are the most environmentally-friendly form of packaging. Unfortunately, I got that information from a packaging industry group called the Carton Council, so it may be just be marketing copy. For now, I'm going to hope they're honest. Now I just need some biodegradable garbage bags for my cartons to try and put my mind at rest.

So not that any of you were probably too concerned about this issue, but now you know what I do in my spare time...

What We're All About

It has become painfully clear to me that I have a distinctly un-American mindset. Not only do I care about politics, which is certainly a rarity in and of itself, I also have this strange desire to make informed decisions. Admittedly, this is the sort of virtue the Founders wanted to cultivate in all the people. But when we consider any of the myriad of polls that seek to quantify American ignorance, I think it's safe to say they failed. For instance, a recent survey revealed that more than one half of Americans were able to name at least two members of the Simpsons family while only about a fourth could name more than one of the freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment. (When I told some friends and peers about this awesome statistic, the result was even more disheartening. Each one proceeded to try and name the five freedoms you see, and well, most of them didn't get too far.) This rampant ignorance manifests itself in our susceptibility to demagoguery and our clear desire to view everything as an unnuanced clash between the forces of good and evil. This is why we have the ridiculous birther controversy, which Jon Stewart assails hilariously, or the stupefying debate over what forms of torture--excuse me--enhanced interrogation techniques are appropriate.

It is this tragic context which compels me to write and quixotically search for other like-minded people to have a real conversation, a conversation about things that matter. I could go talk about sports or movies or some other frivolous topic with almost anyone I choose. But in the face of major problems like climate change, the War on Terror (or whatever we're going to call it now), and the growing national debt, such discussions can only leave me unsatisfied. Instead, I wanted a forum for discussing all the things that have been banished from "polite conversation". And that's why I started Verbal Vigilantes. I want to offer my views and I want people to disagree and argue with me about it. Most importantly, I want to be proven wrong because that's when we learn.

I confess that the name Verbal Vigilantes is a little bit optimistic and dishonest at the moment. The implied plurality is greatly overstated; it's pretty much just me. However, I'm always looking to add new members that share my love for writing and my interests (though not necessarily my views), so let me know if you're interested. Ultimately, when and if the community grows large enough, we will implement a revenue sharing program so that the benefits of participation have a material and an intellectual component. I know I for one can't imagine a better career than blogging--reading, learning, and writing all day on your schedule and no commute required, what could be better?

The full community will be located at verbalvigilantes.com, but hopefully this site will give us (i.e. me) a less obscure presence in the blogging community. (The actual site uses Drupal, and I've had trouble in the past getting indexed properly by Technorati, so I just decided to set up a mirror.) Additionally, the community site will have articles about members' personal lives (if they choose), creative writing pieces, and recipes as well for healthy cuisine. There's no good way to categorize those things on Blogger. Thus, the content here will be restricted to the substantive things I mentioned before, lest someone should come seeking a discussion of foreign policy and hear instead about my lack of a love life. No one wants that. That said, I would encourage you to check out the main site for it will be easier to search for exactly what you're looking for and I imagine the bulk of the discussion will take place there also.

Another feature of the main site is a forum where members can discuss each other's writing technique rather than the content. I alluded earlier to my passion for writing, and one of my goals in starting the community was to become a better writer and to help others with a similar quest. Good writing is a scarce thing, but I'd like to do my part to fill the void.

Anyway thanks for stopping by and I look forward to your comments.