You know what is hilarious to me.

This morning I got a call from a distressed custom kill guy. The kind that we all celebrate on Twitter. You know, the guy retaining ownership and custom killing and the guy we want to build a new model around.

He killed 15 loads of steers three weeks ago and got hung when restaurants shut down.

And I mean hung.

He owned the product. He doesn't have storage. Custom kill needs it moved.

The 250k lbs I touched down with here is product that is high choice and prime, custom kill, from someone like you. Someone who wanted to stick it to the packer and make his own margin.

And he did, until his supply chain collapsed.

And who stepped into help?

Me.

And all you blood hungry tyrants assumed I was sitting on a packer desk trying to drum up trades for Brazil. Right?

"I have a dead pile bigger"
"No one cares"

Well I care.
Because this is the guy we all champion and he is drowning.

And like usual, ego triumphs.

And that is why nothing will ever change.
You all want to sit behind your computer and talk tough.
You don't want to make things better, you want to watch someone else bleed.
Doesn't matter who. Today it was one of your own, but because you thought it was me---you were glad