Over the weekend while I was cleaning out a closet in my apartment, I stumbled upon a copy of The Vegan Guide To New York City. Before you jump to conclusions, let me just say that it was left behind by previous tenants, hidden high up at the back of a shelf. Yesterday while we ate lunch, we thumbed through it and enjoyed the following passages:
On the chefs at Pure Food & Wine:
In previous incarnations, both had won fame as chefs de cuisine cooking animal flesh for carnivores.
On uptown Juice Bar's tonics to cure whatever ails you:
Of course, if you're a vegan of long-standing, you probably don't have any of these ailments, so toast your good health–and your good fortune in being a vegan–with a fruit smoothie instead.
On Why veganism?:
Olympic gold medalist Carl Lewis is a vegan–need we say more?
That's just a sample of the sanctimonious writing that fills this book, perfect for gratifying your ego if you're vegan, or making you laugh a lot if you're not. Also by the same author (I'm not kidding, it's advertised in the Guide): Hitler: Neither Vegetarian Nor Animal Lover.