hear me moo
i weigh twice as much as you
and i look good on the barbecue
Something is up with the cows. I don't know what it is, but they plot in secret and sing violent revolutionary songs.
Ingrates! We feed them; water them; and even defend them from alien invaders.
I propose we study them more closely. With this camouflage we* should be able to mingle amongst them freely:
* By "we," I mean you and me. Unless it happens to be hunting season, in which case you're on your own, Kemosabe.