Meat is Murder, Delicious Murder
Posted in Uncategorized on March 3rd, 2003 by Bigwig – Comments OffMeat is Murder, Delicious Murder
Been meaning to post about this for a couple of days, but events kept interfering. Today for instance, I left my wallet at home, which meant that I bought no coffee, which meant that I took lunch to go home and get it. Lack of time and caffeine combined to produce nothing of any substance save frustration today. That is only now starting to recede, perhaps aided by the Beer of the Night, the dancing couple Zywiec, a hoppy little lager from Poland.
Now, back to the original topic of conversation, even though this appears as a monolog, which was the activist blogosphere. Not that you could have known that, as I had yet to mention it. Whipping up the readers into a fine froth and pointing them at a target, in other words. I’ve had fair success at this, on occasion, which is both surprising and gratifying. My default expectation is to be ignored, so when I’m not, the day ends up being pretty good. So, a belated thanks goes out to all ya’ll who went out of your way to bother the folks at the Portland airport, Rep. Neal’s office, and Not In Our Name. I’m sure I’ll find another hobbyhorse to ride for a day or two sometime in the near future, and I’ll ask for what help you’re willing to give then as well.
Meanwhile, all of you who , I dunno, don’t read any other blogs and so are unaware of the latest memes produced thereof, (Hi mom!) might want to check out TroopTrax and International Eat An Animal For PETA Day. I’ve sent Michele ten bucks for her cause, and I’m fairly sure I can help Meryl out come March 15th without even thinking about it.
Though now that I do think about it, I figure the best meat to eat come that Saturday has got to be veal, and preferably veal that I’ve slaughtered myself. Anybody have a milk fed calf and a gun I can borrow?
Zod: What’s wrong with a knife, you pussy?
Don’t know how to knap flint.
Zod: What the hell are you talking about?
This.
“Scarcely had he touched the sleek hide of the deer with a momentum that sent the animal to its knees than he had grasped a horn in either hand, and with a single quick wrench twisted the animal’s neck completely round, until he felt the vertebrae snap beneath his grip.
The lion was roaring in rage close behind him as he swung the deer across his shoulder, and, grasping a foreleg between his strong teeth, leaped for the nearest of the lower branches that swung above his head.
With both hands he grasped the limb, and, at the instant that Numa sprang, drew himself and his prey out of reach of the animal’s cruel talons.
There was a thud below him as the baffled cat fell back to earth, and then Tarzan of the Apes, drawing his dinner farther up to the safety of a higher limb, looked down with grinning face into the gleaming yellow eyes of the other wild beast that glared up at him from beneath, and with taunting insults flaunted the tender carcass of his kill in the face of him whom he had cheated of it.
With his crude stone knife he cut a juicy steak from the hindquarters, and while the great lion paced, growling, back and forth below him, Lord Greystoke filled his savage belly, nor ever in the choicest of his exclusive London clubs had a meal tasted more palatable.
The warm blood of his kill smeared his hands and face and filled his nostrils with the scent that the savage carnivora love best.
And when he had finished he left the balance of the carcass in a high fork of the tree where he had dined, and with Numa trailing below him, still keen for revenge, he made his way back to his tree-top shelter, where he slept until the sun was high the following morning.”
Been wanting to do that since I was ten.
Zod: Ooookay. Let’s just go back to appreciating beer. Not that I think you need to go appreciate another one or anything.
Well, if you insist.