But if all the imperfect people of the world threw their hands up and did nothing, we'd be in sorry shape.
Case in point:
My super cool, Snapchat-ing, fraternity pledging 20-year-old cousin and I were eating lunch the other day when he said, "You know, I was kinda thinking about not eating pork anymore."
I smothered my excitement because once I deem something cool, it is automatically not cool. I resisted the urge to chime in that most of the 100 million pigs raised each year to be eaten in the U.S. live on factory farms, where mother pigs often live in crates so tiny they are unable to turn around. Worried I might lunge across the table and shake his shoulders as I over-eagerly told him this, I took a huge bite of my salad to shut up instead.
"Did you know pigs might be smarter than dogs?" he asked me. He'd been handed a flyer on the street, and then Googled it. I nodded, casually shrugging my shoulders. "But I'd never become a vegetarian or anything." He sighed, overwhelmed.
"Well..." I swallowed, trying to sound so totally bored. "You could still ... eat less pig."
"Huh. I guess I could."
"Yeah," I shrugged. "Nobody's perfect, but worth trying at least that."