Farewell to meat cleavers!

“Those who describe animals as not having any thoughts or feelings come closer to that description than the animals they are trying to describe.” ~ Edward Alberola

I am reincarnated! Originally, I existed as a “Do(e), a deer…a female deer” living a frightened life of skittishness and mind-numbing shyness. Lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II placed me and my kind into the first line of a perky song in the musical “The Sound of Music” immediately prior to “Re (Ray) a drop of golden sun, Mi (Me) a name I call myself, Fa (Far) a long long way to run, Sol (Sew) a needle pulling thread, La a note to follow Sol, Ti (Tea) a drink with jam and bread…That will bring us back to DOE!” Now, like General Douglas MacArthur, I have returned, only this time with a voice and a spine and a purpose, to live in this blues-inducing Red State.

The Department of Nonsensical Rationale (line up in order the first letter of each preceding word for a shocking abbreviation) has issued a series (just like a soap opera) of publicity releases advertising hunting permits, licenses, tree-stand technique manuals, and dates for gun-toting, rifle-bearing, spear-throwing youth and aging “sports” (?) enthusiasts of either gender bent on “conserving” (their word!) our environment during lop-sided contests with only one side armed to its whitened teeth!. Ironically, these mass murderers genuflect to the Prince of Peace Himself — Jesus H. Christ (google the legitimate “H.”). If one more journalist, radio commentator, or TV talking head (counting up their revenue from the richest among us, i.e. the Koch Brothers’ AMERICANS FOR PROSPERITY) bashes well-intentioned humanists, praises Neanderthal knuckle-draggers, diverts precious attention to non-issues, and fear-mongers the rest of us into believing doomsday is close at hand while whipping us all into frenzied pursuit of desperate, damaging, argumentative, divisive, well-manicured finger-pointing, I shall have to lay aside my usual timidity and speak up! Here goes.

From whence cometh my courage?

Recently, a pair of archival male community educators received some really great, lengthy, yet over-due, press coverage. I never realized, growing up in the 50s, that removing the requisite “Mister” from their surnames to familiarly address them by their first names left me surprisingly with Roy and Dale (Also a famous cinematic/television couple who owned a horse named Trigger and a dog named Bullet?) Mr. Kilby and Mr. Pence served as my grammar school instructors and impacted me at a tender impressionable age and may have created inadvertently my inner conflicts from age eight until now. I do not hold back when I stumble upon a wrong! Thanks, fellows, for great instruction–one was my reading coach and the other my princiPAL! I advocate for animals and other sentient beings and have been forced (through aborted attempts at socialization with too many vain, clueless, rationalizing, wussy human beings) to plead the “animal rights” cause. I wish to conserve all lives simply because I do not believe in murder as a solution– the “final solution” a program also known as ethnic cleansing utilized throughout history on human beings themselves of all ages spun by those other human beings performing the executions as necessary for the well-being of the rest of us. Thanks, to incredible parents and a handful of educators along the way, I believe that “when you feel the suffering of every living thing in your own heart, that is consciousness.” (~Bhagavad Gita)

DVD time, dear reader! Far from a waste! Having open-mindedly viewed the cerebral, ethical, logical “Speciesism, The Movie”, I am on the warpath once again if not always. Welcome to our U.S., the profit-oriented “FOOD, INC.” (Now, see THAT movie!) land which America has become. And at our own health and safety peril! 56 billion animals will be slaughtered this year to satiate our appetites, but not even one will be because of necessity. Just received a “thank you” from director Mark Devries for my recently blogged words of appreciation for this film I highly recommend here once again. Certainly provoked some serious thinking and concerns.

Ungodly numbers of strays and “turn-ins “are unceremoniously exterminated in “shelters”, those establishments which could jolly well stop the “spins” and locate welcoming homes with a bit more effort. Adoption fees (akin to slave auction cash) by themselves seem not self-sustaining enough to cover “operating” expenses. Thus, dumped, abandoned domesticated-only-to-be-jailed pets are, in far too many instances, gathered in cadaver-mode heaps for rendering into fertilizers or bagged into “Happy Dog/Happy Cat Food” in grocery aisles or sold to universities for live medical experimentation. [Read: SYMBIOSIS – Mutualistic or Parasitic ]

Concentration Camps disguised as Factory Farms almost dupe us into believing that, by comparison, free-range chickens are a lovely mythical alternative as are grazing, serene, contented cattle visualized on rolling pastures or over-fed, over-bred pigs who may boast precious names prior to tortuous and frightening journeys from rural America to slaughterhouses.

Battling so-called burgeoning wildlife populations (to the point of extinction ?) is recommended by DNR proclamations published and broadcast everywhere in Hoosier land lately. “STEP RIGHT UP!” shout the hucksters and auctioneers. “Shell over big bucks for the adventuresome right to play God with artificial insemination rods, crates, traps, guns, and little bows and pointy arrows!” Forget totally possible birth-control efforts! It is suddenly open season on frisky squirrels, playful (once imported) river otters (for their fur), non-adulterous mate-for-life mourning doves, and all manner of water fowl ranging from mute swans to (“Duck Die-Nasty”) Huey, Dewey, Louie and their Uncle Donald, too. All for a price! Snap up a blue million individualized hunting licenses–oh, and pricey costumes from any big-box store! Claim that the stacks of disease-ridden, rotting, lead-infested corpses will feed the poor. Of course, deer “harvests” remain standard fare. (“Never befriend even an orphaned fawn quaking in the middle of a busy, frenetic highway…not ‘fair’ to the animals and their adaptability to LIFE in the wild.”) Try not to slam verbally or literally those deer families, herds and loners who actually surmise instinctively frequently precisely when to cross our over-traveled roads and who get caught in our web of overabundant head-lights!

Oh, and “paid instruction is also available.” (Please, 9-year-old girl gun enthusiasts, refrain from accidentally shooting “teacher” himself though.) OR, if a mere boy in rural Michigan, humor your camouflaged heavy-breathing daddy by shooting an arrow into the graceful body of an extremely rare (one out of every 300.000) albino (revered and respected by the American Indian) “ghost of the forest” deer simply for a local taxidermist to stuff and deliver this treasure by pick-up to your trophy room. I kid you not! Jesus, where are you, Sir? DO return to our self-crafted temples of death and destruction — which even include the great but shrinking outdoors — and break our sinister sling-shot toys in half over your knees! Then, while in that position, spank all of us–the perpetrators and the apathetic–as well! ASAP!

Now, leave me alone with my pipe-dreams of a sweeter world which may — one joyous day — cease its spinning out of control. Collen Patrick Goudreau writes that “…killing animals for human consumption is a planned, manipulated, and calculated act that we can avoid by not (purposely) breeding animals in the first place.” Capt. Paul Watson, the Sea Shepherd, advises, “If you want to know where you would have stood on slavery before the Civil War, don’t look at where you stand today. Look at where you stand on animal rights.” I dedicate this entry to the fabulous memories of gorgeous, bold Lauren Bacall who taught others how to whistle, to wonderful clown Robin Williams whose depression woke up a sleeping audience at last, and to James Garner, the handsomest and kindest-looking gentleman who ever lived and who behaved, in real life, not remotely like a swaggering cowboy

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