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Meat to the Beat
Back in the day, I lived on a commune in the country, where we decided to start our careers in animal husbandry with a passel of chickens. Noticing that the kids seemed awfully fond of them, we grew concerned that we were going to run into resistance when it came time to harvest them. Testing the waters, we asked three-year-old Meredith if she liked the chickens.
"Yes," she lisped. "Fried!" You go, girl.