Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Kill your own meat dammit

When I was small, we had a hughe backyard, with many fruittrees, flowerbeds, vegetables and herbs, and of course our chicken pen. There was always an ample supply of fresh fruit, vegetables, eggs and poultry. In our humble backyard farm, I grew up at one with the land and its gifts.
Slaughtering the chickens was no different from harvesting the cherries or the cabbage. It was a chore, not an emotional drama.
It still surprises me that whenever the subject of slaughtering animals pops up in conversation, (and be sure, slaughter is the kind of subject that pops up when you converse with me), people react in the strangest way. Men will often stare in the distance, with a quiet determined look. Most women and boys, (even the 56 year old boys), will react as if you just proposed to send their kid brother to Neverland for the summer.
A 20 year old friend of mine even refused to carry a fresh chicken from my car to the kitchen, claiming it was "Ew".
"Kid, where the fuck do you think meat comes from?"
"Duh! From the supermarket!"
And then there are the accusations. Especially women will give me the kind of look that says: "You went to the graveyard last night, dug up my mother and skullfucked her?", when I tell them about the chickens. (sidenote: These are mostly the same women that claim that islam is the religion of peace and Bush is the evilistest meany in the whole wide world.) Often the implied but silent "Murderer!" will still reverberate through the restaurant as my date stuffs her face with another chickenleg.
It sort of reminds me of the appeaseniks violently demonstrating their pascifism while at the same time enjoying all the benefits of a free society that our millitary guards. Like my Dutch teacher said in highschool a week before I pissed in his coffee: "The Americans were just as bad as the Germans in WWII."

In a perfect society, people would be obliged to kill their own meat. Make it compulsory for them to come to the slaughterhouse once a year. Make them kill 100 chickens, two cows and five pigs. If I were the Grand Commander of the world, (which is not such a far-fetched thought, considering recent developments.), this would be my first standing order.

If you can't kill your own meat, you have no bussiness being a carnivore.
(Fucking vegetarian!)


Blogger prairie biker said...

I have a deer leg marinating in the kitchen right now. And it was a baby deer. The littlest ones are the tenderest.

And you know what I did after I put an arrow in her? I waited in the treestand a couple more hours to see if her mom would come out too.

1:25 AM  
Blogger bulb said...

Did she?

Next time use a flamethrower, for that instant barbeque effect.

9:04 AM  
Blogger airforcewife said...

My Pop made me pluck chickens after he killed them sometimes. I can do it, but the sound of feathers ripping from the body makes my skin crawl.

Of course, it's all okay when I dig in after the bbq.

For the record, I have also peeled Rocky Mountain Oysters for Pop to make for one of his parties. I also did the deed that made a bull a steer once (again, at my Pop's instigation). And we had lamb that used to be my FFA project once.

And I have no compunctions planning and executing the demise of squirrels - those nasty, plague ridden little rats with fluffy tails. Yuck.

So, do I make the cut for carnivore?

5:50 PM  
Blogger bulb said...


Honey you passed. I'll send you the "honorary carnivor" certificate at a later date.

8:39 PM  
Blogger kris said...

nothing like the squeal of your victum before the final merciful blow, yeah i have issues. think of it this way, slaughtering your own food insures its fresh, unlike the week old crap the market has.

8:59 PM  
Blogger Cheryl said...

Every Nation has its arseholes. I can believe that every army has psychos and weirdos and that they will pull a stunt if they think they can. The real problem is when one of them gets into power (either as political leader or religious icon) and the sick becomes official.

I also despise most hunters - modern ones - because they do it for sport first and food as an afterthought. That kinda screws with the whole point of your post, doesn't it?

Having to recognise that the chicken in the supermarket was pecking round a farm a week before (or that bits of your hot dog were nesting in the sewer perhaps?), thats part of being humane, of having due respect.

10:15 AM  
Blogger bulb said...

mmmm cheryll, I wasn't talking about hunting. I was talking about actually going to a slaughterhouse and shooting a cow.

4:28 PM  
Blogger Sassy said...

um...i could NEVER kill any kind of animal...i could prob kill a person before an animal...animals are innocent!

2:25 AM  
Blogger Cloddy said...

excuse me prariebiker???? are you my cousins brother? Bambi makes the best tenderlions and jerky! LOL Feline probably wouldn't be too bad either!

4:37 AM  

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