There are no Jersey cows in New York Dairyland any more. They while away, on Fantasy Island waiting for a ferry to taxi them forth to even greener pastures, somewhere over the golden arches.
Some cows are more or less superior, it seems.
For one thing, not all cows jog across poppy fields or even across town, in the pouring rain. Nor do all cows drink mineral water from coldbrook springs, or even in chic cafes. Few drink expresso, or even simple java in odd asian countries. In fact, I ve even devised my own methods of eliminating troublesome young calves deified jersey veal at that should they wander the streets all night or roam the city all hours, till the cows come home. It may be socially unacceptable for now to speak of slice of life butcher, in all its slash and maim sensibility, but it s not without good reason.