Happy "Turkey Day"

...And lord, bless this meal that we are about to consume, with no thought whatsoever for the suffering we have made necessary, and let it make us healthy, wealthy, and wise...


I hate the month of November. It’s not because it’s usually cold, gray, and drizzly. It’s not because we are wondering where the hell we are supposed to get money to buy xmas presents for people who don’t really need anything. It’s not because I officially grow a year older. It’s not even because it is the month in which my beloved and daily missed grandmother died (not that I don’t love and miss my other grandparents!).

It’s because November seems to be the month in which excessive cruelty and barbarism are celebrated and enjoyed by all. The absolutely repulsive holiday, Thanksgiving, occurs, right along with hunting season. Somehow thanksgiving has become synonymous with gorging and overindulging (in the vile way that only Americans can) in a beautiful and fascinating bird—the turkey, along with a generous helping of other mostly unhealthy foods. Some of the “enlightened” Americans salve the guilt of their overindulgence by remembering briefly, before the large corpse is consumed, to be thankful for their excesses. Even fewer, may even be thoughtful enough to give to those in need, which allows them to overindulge with no guilt whatsoever. After all, “good” people deserve to be rewarded with all the excesses that money can provide for them.

It is no exaggeration to say that at all times that I am conscious, there is a constant loop that plays in my head, reminding me of how many animals are suffering at every given moment. The additional atrocities of the month of November are in my face constantly, and really, my head is already full of misery. I don’t need the constant visceral reminders that the humans among whom I live—and some who I even love—are the most vile, selfish, plague that this planet has ever experienced. That the vast majority are capable, due to some flaw in their ability to empathize, of committing and participating in cruelty and violence on a regular daily basis. Are there three species of humans, differentiated by some DNA variance that we haven’t yet identified? We seem to have the vegans—those for whom empathy is overwhelmingly and painfully present and who govern their lives based on this; the vegetarians/animal welfarists—those for whom empathy is present (especially if the animal is cute) when it doesn’t affect them too awfully much; the others—those who single-mindedly live for their own satisfaction and are largely unwilling to endure any inconvenience or personal discomfort despite the pain and misery others may have to endure as a result.

I’m musing honestly here and am fully aware that this comes across as judgmental and arrogant. So effing what. I am forced, every single day of my life, to interact pleasantly with people who are to me, the equivalent of serial killers. Sounds extreme? Probably to some, but that is exactly how it feels. I am usually alternating between sadness, anger, and despair as a result of this. It sucks. You don’t like to hear it? I am sorry for that, because if you’re reading this, you are probably someone I love. You are also probably someone for whom my love is deep, yet conflicted, and therefore soul-crushingly painful for me. How can I so deeply and loyally love and defend someone who has no moral compunction about torturing, killing, and consuming others who I love deeply? That’s another loop that plays in my head on a daily basis. There is no resolution for this situation, so I have resigned to living with yet one more source of deep sadness and pain. Is it any wonder, then, that I would willingly and proudly sacrifice my life and/or health for this movement? I would leave behind worlds of agony interspersed only briefly with happiness.

This is probably as raw as my blog will ever get. I have kept it very sanitized. Yes, for me, VERY sanitized. But I’m raw right now. I have had to endure too many deer corpses, displayed with no respect or regard on the backs of redneck vehicles that get less than 15 mpg. I have had to endure the intense rage that overwhelms me when I look at the way these deer were violated and are continued to be disrespected after death. THEY ARE BEINGS! With thoughts, feelings, emotions (yep. it’s been proven and can no longer be called anthropomorphism), and a desire to BE. What am I supposed to do with all the rage? I realize as I drive along I90, looking at the corpses displayed, that I have no thoughts at that time beyond pure, unadulterated rage. I want to kill these hunters, who find it so enjoyable and sporting to hide like pussies and shoot at an innocent (unarmed) creature, who is guilty of nothing more than trying to live. For every woman who has been raped or battered by men who like to assert their power over the innocent and vulnerable. For every child who has been beaten or raped by men who are only able to exert dominion over the smallest and weakest. For every animal who has been killed, tortured, or perhaps even worse—been completely disregarded and treated with complete ambivalence. I want these men (yes, a few women hunt, they’re included too) to suffer unspeakable cruelty. Worst of all, though, I want to make them feel like the nothings that they are. I am a proponent of nonviolence. How can I possibly entertain thoughts (and find pleasure in them) of making any living being suffer. I am disgusted by the fact that I have these feelings. I am even more angry with these worthless losers for even momentarily causing me to have the kind of thoughts that they turn into deeds.

Then I remember that while, in the month of November, these atrocities are very visible, as are the participants, they are not much different from the rest of society. Those who think that the momentary pleasant stimulation of their taste buds justify ending a life. For every single bite of flesh, dairy, or eggs, placed in the mouth makes a statement to the world. A statement that says your personal small pleasures are much more important than the life/lives that you have sentenced to death. Make no mistakes, in that small action—that small morsel that you enjoy but will soon flush down the toilet—you are an equal partner in the execution. If you can’t forego a small pleasure to spare the lives of others, please, at least take a moment to think about and appreciate the being who once was; the being who had their life taken for your palate. Since they received no kindness or appreciation in life, at least grant them a moment of gratitude in death. It’s the least you can do—really, I do mean the least.

I challenge anyone who is still talking to me at this point to watch this film. If you can make it all the way through, I will be SHOCKED beyond belief at your personal strength. Spend an hour or two in my world. If you're still sane... well, I really doubt I'll have any takers on this one. ;P Maybe you'll understand why I'm such a bitch!
I dare you!