I like eating meat. It doesn’t matter how horrific were the conditions under which my tasty, blood-dripping char-grilled chunk of steak was raised and slaughtered, I’m not giving it up. Reach for it and you’ll pull back a bloody stump. Ditto for chicken, lamb chops, pork products–and I feel no guilt when I order veal at my local restaurant. I don’t oppose animal rights activism in general, not at all, but I believe I’m at the top of the local food chain for a reason, and by damn I enjoy eating meat.
I donate to the ASPCA, and think people who abuse animals (assuming we can agree on a definition for “abuse”) ought to be prosecuted and thrown in jail. Organizations like the ASPCA do good work, have a good reputation in the national community, and are effective spokespeople for raising public awareness about issues like the Michael Vicks of the world.
Which brings me to PETA. They are everything the ASPCA isn’t: an absolutely ineffective vehicle for supporting “animal rights.” They just got their panties in a twist over a goddamn FLY! A nasty, crawling buzzing vector of disease and filth that was spawned in some festering garbage, or perhaps in the stinking dog feces your neighbor never picked up from his back yard. If ever there were a justifiable killing in human history, President Obama’s swatting of such a creature tops the list. And PETA gets in a lather over it.
Let me offer some unsolicited advice: if ever you form an organization which you hope to become a beacon of inspiration for furthering a cause, start out by not branding yourself a bunch of over-the-top lunatics. Trust me on this one.
Editor’s note: It’s a rant, dude. Don’t expect political correctness here. I buy range-grown meat “in real life.”