In a reddit thread on health inspection violations someone offered a story about a run away cow licking bread in a recreation of a 18th century french bakery.
A commenter wrote a poem about the incident:

my name is Cow,
and wen its nite,
or wen the moon
is shiyning brite,
and all the men
haf gon to bed -
i stay up late.

i lik the bred.

It is unclear why it caught on so quickly, but the poem inspired countless imitations, telling more stories from the perspective of Cat, Cow or even Dog.
I would guess it is the plain form and the formidable self-confidence of Cow that makes this poem an essential response to our troubled times. Cow does not ponder on its identity or its actions. Cow knows what it is and what it does. Naturally. It liks the bred.

I wish for all my friends to be more like Cow. Believe in what you do. Do it. And find something to lik.