It's that time of year.
I'm not a hunter myself, but I've always been a little irked at people who, every fall... run around screaming about animal genocide.
They're usually the same people who insist that anyone, absolutely anyone who dares to own a firearm... is a threat to society.
They're also usually the same people who wear expensive leather coats and order 25 dollar expense account striploins, which somehow... is always excusable.
They'll scream about the cruelty of the slaughterhouse and then blithely run the kids to the nearest burger joint for a quick, convenient, no dirty-dishes fix.
And that, my friends, is the height of intellectual and ethical dishonesty.
I talk to the pigs whenever I’m in their pen, and ever since June I’ve been slowly taming them, getting them used to being scratched.There's no sense being top predator, if you're gonna get all squishy about what constitutes protein.
There are two reasons. I truly love being with the pigs. And taming them means it will be that much easier for the farmer and his son to kill them swiftly, immediately.
If I had no more foreknowledge of my death than these two pigs will have of theirs, I’d consider myself very lucky.
So pick a side here... and live your choice... but save the yuppie scum hypocrisy for your equally confused circle of suburban sybarite friends.
And let the rest of to go about our business in peace.
Technorati Tags: country life, yuppie scum, give me bbq, or give me death
