eat-what-you-kill
Original: eat-what-you-kill on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal
Transcript
Panel 1
Woman with dark hair: I think people should only eat meat they've killed themselves.
Panel 2
Woman with red hair: Sure. But see, there's a problem—hunted meat costs more time and money than store-bought.
Panel 3
Woman with dark hair: So they became more in tune with the effects of their consumption habits?
Panel 4
Woman with dark hair: So I created this device. It's a small artificial brain that connects to dead meat. It fires a nervous system into a hunk of flesh which briefly experiences life as a steak-with-a-brain.
(She holds up a small green device.)
Panel 5
Woman with red hair: I have ambitions.
Panel 6
Woman with dark hair: I then switch off the artificial brain, thus technically killing the meat, which I then place on the grill.
Panel 7
Woman with dark hair: It seems a little unethical to take a brain, bring it to life, then kill it over and over.
Panel 8
Woman with red hair: Uh okay? I guess all of human reproduction is unethical to you?
Panel 9
Woman with dark hair: Plus, if enough people use this, the odds become such that any thinking brain is probably a steak-with-a-brain. So if you're thinking, you're most likely a delusional piece of beef. So we're sharing the risk equally.
Panel 10
Woman with red hair: I'm gonna become a vegetarian.
Panel 11
Woman with dark hair: Nice try! I'm attaching the brain to your baked potato as we speak. HAHAHAHAHA!
Votey:
A disembodied steak (or potato) with a single weary eye lies on a dark surface.
Speech bubble: Please euthan-eyes me.
Woman with dark hair: I think people should only eat meat they've killed themselves.
Panel 2
Woman with red hair: Sure. But see, there's a problem—hunted meat costs more time and money than store-bought.
Panel 3
Woman with dark hair: So they became more in tune with the effects of their consumption habits?
Panel 4
Woman with dark hair: So I created this device. It's a small artificial brain that connects to dead meat. It fires a nervous system into a hunk of flesh which briefly experiences life as a steak-with-a-brain.
(She holds up a small green device.)
Panel 5
Woman with red hair: I have ambitions.
Panel 6
Woman with dark hair: I then switch off the artificial brain, thus technically killing the meat, which I then place on the grill.
Panel 7
Woman with dark hair: It seems a little unethical to take a brain, bring it to life, then kill it over and over.
Panel 8
Woman with red hair: Uh okay? I guess all of human reproduction is unethical to you?
Panel 9
Woman with dark hair: Plus, if enough people use this, the odds become such that any thinking brain is probably a steak-with-a-brain. So if you're thinking, you're most likely a delusional piece of beef. So we're sharing the risk equally.
Panel 10
Woman with red hair: I'm gonna become a vegetarian.
Panel 11
Woman with dark hair: Nice try! I'm attaching the brain to your baked potato as we speak. HAHAHAHAHA!
Votey:
A disembodied steak (or potato) with a single weary eye lies on a dark surface.
Speech bubble: Please euthan-eyes me.
Alt text
An eleven-panel SMBC comic. A dark-haired woman argues that people should only eat meat they've killed themselves, so they'll be in tune with their consumption habits. A red-haired friend pushes back. The dark-haired woman then reveals a small green device: an artificial brain that fires a nervous system into a hunk of dead meat, so it 'briefly experiences life as a steak-with-a-brain,' after which she switches the brain off (technically killing it) and grills it. When the friend calls this unethical, she escalates: if enough people do it, then statistically any thinking brain is probably a steak-with-a-brain, so if you're thinking you're most likely a delusional piece of beef. The friend declares she's going vegetarian, and the woman cackles that she's already attaching the brain to her baked potato. Votey: a sad lump of food with a single weary eye lies on a dark surface, its speech bubble reading 'Please euthan-eyes me'—a pun on 'euthanize.'
Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.