Holy Cow! How Big Beef's Moo-ving Propaganda

Photography of cartoon-like cow wearing a graduation cap, giving a thumbs up against a background of a chalkboard with scientific equations, vibrant colors, humorous style

Dive into the zany crusade of Big Beef coaching young minds while Jack Superblack contemplates the steak of life.

Sometimes I wake up and think, what's the point? It's not the existential dread, folks; it's the beef. Big Beef is on a mission, and it's not leading us to greener pastures. Imagine the American Farm Bureau Foundation for Agri-propaganda (let's call them AFBFA because who cares?) convincing your kid's science teacher that cows are basically the superheroes of the animal kingdom, sans the capes—because who'd tailor those?

The AFBFA has turned farming into fiction, spewing tales as tall as a genetically modified beanstalk. Their endgame? To refurbish beef's beefy carbon hoof-print into sparkling, eco-friendly fairy dust. Move over, Tinker Bell, here comes the cattle.

Eight years, people! Eight years and counting, the AFBFA has been wooing educators with the charm of a B-movie actor. They say these tutors got 8% more sprinkles of beef trust after attending Big Beef's summer camp. I couldn't make this up if I scribbled it on the back of a napkin while skydiving without a parachute – and folks, I've thought about it.

And there's Professor Jennifer Jacquet, who's probably patting herself on the back, saying the beefy brigade's got "trust issues." Meanwhile, Jan Dutkiewicz is in the corner making shadow puppets, warning us that the indoctrination starts in the playground.

Checkoff? More like Checkout—like when I think about exiting stage left and never coming back. Because these beef barons are dropping $42 million like it's a tip at a dive bar. I mean, $800,000 to brainwash—sorry—"educate" us how cows are just four-legged floral arrangements? Mom, I never knew daisies mooed.

Lesson plans are making kids pen love letters to steak. Bingo for beef? Listen, if chucking cows into ecological preserves puzzles you, imagine your kids doing math with pastures. I might not believe in the afterlife, but this feels like purgatory with lunch money.

As I sign off, pondering why my cat's giving me that "you're next" look, remember this: When I inevitably die alone, at least now you know why. Because the thought of beefy bingo did me in. Moo-tally.

Based on the original article "Inside the Beef Industry’s Campaign to Influence Kids".