Almost the Last Supper

Should I start panicking now or tomorrow when I sign off from my beloved affair with steak and eggs. Let's be fucking serious, it's the cheese, it's the not having cheese that's going to bring this whiny bitch to her knees. And most of my cheese and  bloody steak loving friends are asking me why. "Why the fuck are you doing this?", "No more goat cheese? Are you mental?" The simple explanation is this: Because I want to. It's an experiment. To either prove to hippie dippie assholes that their theories are full of shit and their parents passed down conversation are all lies or that it might just make you feel better to stop stuffing your face with "man making money off of animal" bullshit. Can I survive and prosper off of vegetables, fruit, grains and legumes? Or will I wither away bitterly, and pick up knitting and English tea? There are  hundreds of thousands of medical studies done, Anthropologists, New Ageists and Farmers, who will all tell you their view on either side. Some have money at stake, some have sponsors that out of pure obligation and cowardly misfortune they have to stand behind, and some are just crust punks living off of trust funds who have nothing else better to do with their food stamps. And it makes for a better life story. Either way, I figure I'll feel like baby Jesus walking on water never to break anything but a happy smile or I'll be miserable and hungry and get sick from this deficiency or that. So why not, it's not as if I have anything more exciting going on in my life at the moment.