S U C K

"a fish, a barrel, and a smoking gun"
for 16 September 1997. Updated every WEEKDAY.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Pleased to Meat You

 

[mmm, yummy. i am now a reformed vegetarian... ]

There are so many good reasons to

not eat meat, it seems a shame

that they're mostly subverted by

crusaders such as Chrissie Hynde

and Morrissey, whose biggest

threat to carnivores is annoying

us to death. That all the vegan

blowhards have kept a pretty low

profile since the latest E.

Coli fiasco suggests nothing

more than an inability to put

one and one together publicly

and jot the results down in a

press release. This despite so

many hot-button angles to be

pushed: If AIDS is proof that

God disapproves of

homosexuality, where's Jerry

Falwell when the bar-b-que goes

bad? Indeed, between E. Coli,

mad-cow syndrome, and the RBGH

flap, you might get the idea

that God moves not so much in

mysterious ways as in bacterial

ones.

 

[i guess i never was a vegetarian though; i always ate chicken, seafood, umm]

Or perhaps it's the work of some

Teutonic devil. Any sixth-grader

knows that the deepest and

hottest precinct of hell has

been specially reserved for the

Nazis, whose sin was applying

industrial technologies and

methods of distribution to the

ancient agenda of killing lots

and lots of people. It was

bloodlust writ large, with

results that - making allowances

for different species - make

Hudson Foods and their

slaughterhouse counterparts look

like true heirs to the tradition

of German Inhumanism. Call it

death (or at least diarrhea) by

mass distribution, a catastrophe

of biblical proportions looking

for a number of places to

happen.

 

Beyond the divine right of

Burger King, it may seem a

stretch to link hamburgers and

theology. But it's no

coincidence that the dominant

form of religion in the good old

US of A is Protestantism, one of

the only world religions that

observes no dietary

proscriptions at all, unless you

count an informal posture

against spicy Thai take-out

among Lutherans and Unitarians.

Even a few Catholics still order

the Fish-Wich on Fridays. Jews

and Muslims see eye-to-eye when

it comes to cloven hoofs, and

most Hindus and Buddhists won't

touch anything that ever had

legs in a previous lifetime.

Indeed, if you look at the ratio

of number of gods worshipped to

cuts of meat consumed, you'd

conclude that flesh, the raw and

the cooked, makes for a

manifestly unimaginative creed.

Still, let's be perfectly frank:

What made this country great was

not vegetarianism.

 

[i guess i was being trendy huh? ]

What these punks who chain

themselves to the fur department

at Macy's don't understand is

that this country would still be

13 mewling and puking British

colonies if not for the Hudson

Bay fur trade, the

near-extinction of the buffalo

and its dependents, and the

Goodnight-Loving Trail. And

where the hell would modern

advertising (truly the highwater

mark of human aspiration) be

without "Where's the Beef?"

"It's What's for Dinner," "The

Other White Meat," and "Tastes

Like Chicken"? We can only

speculate how long it would take

the State Fair to unravel

without the presence of man's

best friend, the corn dog.

 

If the stability of your

Metamusil stock didn't convince

you, the 25-million-ton recall

should have. We'll tolerate a

certain amount of

cottage-industry whining about

the evils of carnivorous

practice and the dubious

binge-and-purge obsessions of

macrobiotic vegans, but there

can be little mistake about

what's on the table in most

American homes: dead, cooked

mammals (pass the ketchup).

Heinous though it may be, that's

somewhat less ambiguous than the

hypocrisies that plague the

herbivore movement.

 

[come to think of it, i just bought a pair of knee-high leather boots, own 2 leather jackets and damn if i'm not going to eat a big juicy piece of red meat tonight! ]

After all, "Meat is murder" may

be fine and good for some

baritone English puffdah, but we

shudder to think how much less

cool the world is, now that

there are actually Naugahide Doc Martens

and vinyl Birkenstocks. The days

of choosing between looking good

and feeling good are long gone,

and the simple American

institution of red meat is in

serious jeopardy. You'll forgive

us the Bazooka-Joe pun when we

say the steaks have never been

higher.




courtesy of the E. L. Skinner
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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