Why should I buy grass-fed beef?
It is delicious, for one. Nutritious. Proteiny. Red. Quiet. Oh, and one other little thing, in case you forgot: the beef is grass-effing-fed.
Is grass-fed beef really that different from regular beef?
Please. You must be a professional jokesperson who tells hilarious jokes for a living, because your question just made me laugh so hard that laughter came out of my face. The difference between grass-fed beef and regular beef is the difference between spinach-fed blueberries and asbestos-fed rat.
What are some of the health advantages of grass-fed beef?
Improved memory. Increased vertical leap. Enhanced dexterity. Resistance to polio. Sauciness. Immunity to shark bites. General allure. Success. Success. Success. Fact: you will gain these advantages whether you actually eat the grass-fed beef or just rub it all over yourself in the shower.
Is grass-fed beef more environmentally friendly than regular beef?
Whoa, whoa, whoa…slow down, Asky Askington. That was clearly not a grass-fed question, or it would have been the best question ever.
But you didn’t even answer.
Grass-effing-fed. That’s your answer. Pull it together, man.
I’m on a tight budget and can’t afford grass-fed beef. What’s the next best thing?
Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but there is a tie for second place among every other consumable solid on the planet. If you can’t afford grass-fed beef, then I’d recommend apologizing to yourself for not working harder, then preparing your will.
Who are some notable consumers of grass-fed beef?
Actors. Professional athletes. Scholars. Fashionistas. Illuminati. Presidents. Vice Presidents of Marketing. Logginses. Messinas. Wolves. McMansion garbage disposals. People, before the 1930’s.
How can I prove that my beef is grass-fed?
That’s exactly the kind of question I’d expect from a corn-feeder.
How does the processing of grass-fed beef differ from that of regular beef?
Imagine, if you will, a cow grazing happily in a beautiful pasture. It chomps away on delicious, chlorophyll-rich blades of grass, happy as all get-out. Now imagine this cow is moved to the slaughterhouse, where it is ushered, along with several hundred of its comrades, into a momentary vortex of searing pain, followed by the slow letting of brackish blood and the promise of everlasting nothingness. At this point, it is moved along to a processing plant where, amidst whirring bone saws and funhouse plastic sheeting, its corpse is ripped apart, shrink-wrapped, and loaded onto a truck heading straight for your dinner table. Now. Imagine how disgusted you’d be if your dinner had also been fed corn.