I’m a meat eater, and proud of it.
I suffer no guilt whatsoever while devouring juicy steaks, savory chicken, or crackling bacon. I can gnaw the meat off the bones of a whole rack of ribs with nary a pang of remorse. I rarely ever spare a thought for the animals that make the ultimate sacrifice to fill my dinner plate.
Reading this description of the Turducken makes me feel a lot like one of those horrifying alien lizard people from V. I mean, imagine walking in on the scene of a turducken preparation if you happen to be a duck.