Alan Cumming, OBE (born 27 January 1965), is a Scottish-American actor, singer/performer, author, and activist who has appeared in numerous films, television shows, and plays.
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- I just don't like meat. Rotten carcasses don't feel good inside in my body. I've also seen some horrible documentaries about the hormones and things that go into meat. On a health level, meat is so scary. […] It's not just about staying away from meat, it's about keeping things in your diet that make you feel good. That's why you eat vegetarian in the first place. […] I think killing to make or eat things is horrific. It seems like there was a movement against wearing fur in fashion, but overnight it's fine again. I hate the way we pay lip service to issues like that.
- “One on One with Alan Cumming,” interview with Vegetarian Times (27 January 2011).
- I’ve really noticed over the last few years how many people are turning towards eating vegetarian or vegan. […] Everyone’s realizing that these things are delicious and good for you. And I think it’s an indication of how we’re becoming more conscious of what we do to our bodies by what we put into them and what we do to the planet.
- At a PETA’s news conference, as reported in “Announcing the Winner of PETA’s ‘Most Vegan-Friendly City’ Prize,” in peta.org (17 September 2014).
Not My Father's Son: A Family Memoir (2014)Edit
- “You need a haircut, boy!” My father had only glanced at me across the kitchen table as he spoke but I had already seen in his eyes the coming storm. […] I hoped that my going to the barber's during school lunch break the next day would appease him. […] I had to get some water or I was going to choke, or worse, cry. I got up from the table and moved towards the sink. […] He threw me up on top of a workbench. He was baying now, not just shouting. You couldn't understand what he was saying but I know it had to do with my hair and my water drinking and how fucking useless and insolent and pathetic I was, but it wasn't coherent. […] Soon my head was propelled forward by his hand, the other one wielding a rusty pair of clippers that he used on the sheep we had in the field in front of our house. They were blunt and dirty and they cut my skin, but my father shaved my head with them, holding me down like an animal.
- Memory is so subjective. We all remember in a visceral, emotional way, and so even if we agree on the facts—what was said, what happened where and when—what we take away and store from a moment, what we feel about it, can vary radically.
- Had I not had the childhood I did, would these traits not be so at the forefront of my personality? Who knows? All I know is that I am the product of all the experiences I have had, good and bad, and if I am in a happy place in my life (as I truly am), then I can have no regrets about any of the combination of events and circumstances that have led me to the here and now.