How to be Perfect: The Correct Answer to Every Moral Question

by Michael Schur

to do with it.) The veggie patties were shipped to your local store from someplace very far away, rendering their carbon footprint massive, and the cows you pictured are in fact penned up in a factory farm, because the legal definitions of “organic” and “grass-fed” are embarrassingly loose thanks to shady legislation written by agribusiness lobbyists. The cows aren’t happy. They’re sad. They’re sad cows. It gets worse: The sneakers you wore on your jog were made in a factory where workers are paid four cents an hour. The documentarian who made the film you watched is a weird creep who likes to sniff strangers’ hair on the subway—nice work putting ten bucks in his pocket—and the streaming service you watched it on is part of a multinational conglomerate that also makes killer drones for the North Korean air force. Oh and by the way, that old lady you helped collects Nazi memorabilia. “But she seemed so sweet,” you say. Nope! Secret Nazi. She was actually on her way to buy more Nazi stuff—that’s what you helped her across the street to do. Well, great. Now you’re miserable. You tried to be good, in your own small way, and the world smacked you across the face. You’re also angry. You had good intentions, and at least you put in the effort—shouldn’t that count for something?! And you’re