We Americans are literally trying to turn the world into ourselves. If it's not us, we want it to be, and either directly or behind the scenes we're busily coopting nearly everything we see into foodstuff or foodstuff-making/dispensing paraphernalia: using more and more land, animals, plants, materials and factories for the production of our national diet. Despite all convenient truths and greenspeak to the contrary, Americans in deed blithely act as if the earth was made for us, and not vice versa.  Ultimate narcissists, we believe the earth wants to be us.

  Not to mention dairy and eggs, an average American swallows more than 200 pounds of meat a year, which is 50 pounds more a year than an American ate in 1958, according to an article in The New York Times last month.  World meat consumption has doubled since 1988, and is expected to double again by 2050.

  Yet one human only needs about an ounce of protein a day, say nutritionists, and nearly all that could come from easy-to-grow plant sources.  Beef, on the other hand, can take as much as ten times the amount of grain to supply the same amount of calories as the grain alone could've provided in the first place. 

  The huge "meat refineries" we build for production are hungry gods, and we feed them enormous amounts of live animals and human labor and energy to operate, along with so much grain it's driving up the price for ethanol and other bogus chemicals we think we want to brew.  The United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization says one third of usable land worldwide is now devoted in some way to the meat process, which in turn is responsible for a fifth of all greenhouse gas emissions, not to mention significant collateral soil and water pollution.

  If you've ever seen the movie Fast Food Nation, you've got an idea of the kind of oppressive work conditions we shove our immigrant friends into, so we can order lukewarm patties between our buns at the late night drive-thru.  Our unspeakable, inevitable cruelty to the animals involved was recently documented in videos seen on dinnertime news reports, which led to a meat contamination scare over the use of so-called "downer" cattle - those too sick to walk easily onto death ramps.

    Once eaten, meat can taint our pure bodies with all the extra additives it accumulates during managed growth and slaughter: fat, disease, toxins, weak antibiotics that can actually strengthen infections.  A landmark analysis of five different studies in 1999, published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, concluded that death rates from heart disease were 34% lower in people who ate no meat except fish. Despite the instant gratification of its good taste and amino acid/b-vitamin rush, meat is in many ways a long-term health risk, directly related to the amount and frequency of its consumption.

    So, let's cut the sermonizing and cue the salivation. Want to come over to our house tonight for burgers and brats on the barbie?  Because rather than try to quit eating meat altogether, may we humbly suggest that instead, American carnivores agree to eat meat only every other day - at least to begin with.  All the meat we want one day, and the next day none - how hard can that be?  We're betting that gradually, our desire for meat even on the days allowed will diminish, as life with less of it becomes more and more desirable. 

  Simple, huh!  On the off-days, instead of meat, we can eat beans or tofu or fish, or bug tempura.  After a surprisingly brief metabolism re-orientation period, everyone will begin to feel quite noticeably happier, and the benefits - health, environmental, even political - could change the world for the better in short order.

  It's an almost unbelievably naive and futilely idealistic idea - that without any elections, invasions or prevarications, Americans could actually do what needs to be done and feel good about it after?  Why, yes!  Much like the kind of spring in the ol' peristalsis that comes from enlightened bowels, some amazing benefits accrue from just answering good nature's call now and then.

  All right, let's all meet at Eden Alley in a year, and celebrate our new and superior lives over roasted rosemary potatoes and Irish babies.  There'll be a new, wise president, bums on the Plaza will be cheerfully proffering coins to pedestrians, and turkey legs at the Renaissance Festival will be replaced by smoked cicada carcasses on toothpicks.

Till then, our meaty fat-painted lips to yours...mmmwah! Now beat it.

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