“Meat is not green. Go vegan.” Walking to work this morning, I passed a delivery truck with that message on its side.
Green is a lovely color: a forest canopy, a well-tended lawn, a field of grain, the miniature palm in my room. But plants are the lowest form of life. In higher forms, green is the color of mold, decay, disease.
My color is red: the blood of a gazelle nailed by a cheetah, the glow of a healthy complexion, the fiery furnace in a steel mill … and a steak ready for grilling—carefully inspected to make sure the meat is not green.