“Now consider the bird that will soon be on your plate. It probably hatched in an incubator on a huge farm, most likely in the Midwest or the South. Its life went downhill from there. A few days after hatching — in the first of many unnatural if not necessarily painful indignities — it had its upper beak and toenails snipped off… Every bit of natural instinct and intelligence has been bred out of these turkeys, so much so that they are famously stupid (to the point where farmers joke they’ll drown themselves by looking up at the rain). Broad Breasted Whites have been developed for a single trait at the expense of all others: producing disproportionately large amounts of white meat in as little time as possible… Industrial turkeys pay a high price for the desire of producers and consumers for lots of white breast meat. By their eighth week, these turkeys are severely overweight. Their breasts are so large that they are unable to walk or even have sex. (All industrial turkeys today are the product of artificial insemination.)” — New York Times (US)

Big breasts, no brains — you knew this was what men wanted from women, but did you know that it was what we wanted from turkeys too? Of course, when it comes to the animal kingdom, the trick is that we’re able to breed for what we want — we’re able to transform our fantasies into reality. It makes you wonder if someday we’ll try to do the same to the fairer sex.

Don’t scoff. The Chinese practiced foot-binding, which essentially made a woman into an invalid so that she could be better appreciated as an aesthetic and sexual object. Maybe someday scientists will do the same but with breasts rather than feet. They’ll breed women with such big tits that they can’t do anything but lie in bed all day — and since the women would have no brains, they probably wouldn’t care that that was all they could do. Men would come by to admire them, fondle them, masturbate onto them. Think of it as kind of the prostitution equivalent of one of those pick-your-own-strawberries farms. In the stead of rows of plants, customers would find rows of beds full of big-breasted, bedridden ladies — and then they could pick their own, so to speak.

If it sounds barbaric, don’t forget how good that turkey tasted at Thanksgiving dinner. Isn’t your pleasure worth a little suffering on the part of others?

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