And Jellyfish.
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Where are they keeping this poor pig? Itâs scared of loud noises and it sounds like they have it living in a Chicago railroad shunting yard. What kind of hospital (?) even sounds like that? A train hospital?
I mean, singing to it is sweet and all with that lovely voice, but maybe try and move it someplace where it isnât subjected to perpetual terror
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Thatâs kinad what I was thinking.
âwith all that slamming and banging around, it sounds like theyâre in a slaughterhouse. Maybe theyâre mostly dealing with patching up horses and cattle?â
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I have limited experience with pigs, horses, cows and goats. The only ones I feel bad about eating from personal experience is with pigs. Theyâre too intelligent and sympathetic. So Iâve actually sworn off bacon and porkchops. While my experience with goats have only ever made me more willing to slather the bastards in tzatziki and devour the ill-temprered douches out of spite.
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Given the history of how we treat our own species and our nearest neighbours, perhaps the mistake pigs make is indeed in being too much like us.
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Who wants anything as boring as that?
I want a Manhattan Project for vegetarian bacon. I want secret projects being built in squash courts in Chicago, with people who ask what they are doing being told they donât have enough security clearance to know that. I want a vast industrial complex in an empty-ish State a long way from Washington and a genius biochemist telling the brass âUnless you follow my instructions to the letter I cannot guarantee the safety of this facility.â I want a secret headquarters built on a plateau in New Mexico, and brilliant minds with enormous egos competing to get their approach used first. I want a perverse egomaniac who has a plan for a bacon substitute that will be many times tastier than real bacon, and accuses the other scientists of being communists. I donât want some fields filled with porkers or some pink stuff in a Petri dish, I want Hollywood science that will do justice to the importance of the subject.
And at some point, as this vast enterprise races to a conclusion, I want an Einstein-like figure to visit the President and warn him of the terrible consequences. And I want President Trump to ask âWhy, whatâs the Wurst thing that could happen?â
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Dammit, one more nail in the coffin of my carnivorism. Pretty soon I will be a vegetarian who doesnât like vegetables. Hard to kill something that obviously has feelings like that. Canât really buy the food chain argument anymore either when we as humans are the only animals that know exactly what we are doing and have legitimate dietary alternatives. Or at the very least, more human and ethical ways of producing and consuming meat.
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When eating pork I often think of how pigs are friendly and intelligent and would probably like nothing better than to be friends with a human being. Chickens are no problem.
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That set up: totally worth it.
While my experience with goats have only ever made me more willing to slather the bastards in tzatziki and devour the ill-temprered douches out of spite.
Iâve alway assumed that attitude underlies a lot of choices in live seafood restaurants. âIâll have that one - the little bastard looked at me in a funny way.â
Sheâs not a worker at the hospital. She runs an animal sanctuary and Bentley is one of her rescues. Sheâs a friend of mine, an outstanding human being, and a kick-ass vegan.
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Thank you. Iâm a great admirer of the work of Brian OâNolan (Miles na Gcopaleen) and his Keats stories. Some of the terminal puns can only be described as brilliantly bad.
Live scallops, of course, can look at sev eral people at once in a funny way.
Reference: scallops and bacon. There used to be (may be still there) a restaurant near the beach between Fort William and Oban down a narrow road with many bendsâŚworth the detour for that alone.
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