On Saturday Lisa and I met Peter Schreiner and his lovely family for an incomparable vegan celebration at their home. Anyone fortunate enough to know Peter’s steady mindful support for animal rights and the wisdom of veganism knows that this would become a singular moment. Of course it was much more than a wonderful experience, it was immensely fruitful and vegetable-full.
Here is a reblog from October 2016 that speaks to the power of Mr. Schreiner’s voice. Written a bit over a year ago, the sentiments still reverberate.
Dedicated here to all sentient creatures gifted with this planet.
Peter Schreiner is the voice of Crows Head Soup. His post Animal Welfare is stirring enthusiasm for the pillars of Veganism and the bedrock supporting those pillars.
Veganism happens one human at a time, one awesome realization at a time. As Peter suggests, the information is out there. And so is well funded disinformation.
I have found that adopting a vegan lifestyle is not privation. It’s not like “giving up something” at all, unless you view toxins as dietary supplements. Detoxing is uncomfortable and wearying. Eating a portion of animal or animal byproduct provides short term relief. It’s like waking up in the morning with a coughing fit that goes away when you light up the first cigarette of the day.
Nicotine is also a cough suppressant. But it takes a while for nicotine to excrete completely. Withdrawal is agony. I am an ex-smoker as well as an ex-drinker, I actually told myself that tobacco and alcohol were at least vegan. Craving will twist reason into whatever contortion necessary to rationalize consumption of more and more (and more) of the toxin that tastes and feels good. Thanksgiving?
Mad Men of the 50’s and the cigarettes they peddled. “Chesterfields are smoked by more doctors than any other cigarette.” The ads were Norman Rockwellesque. All the while the enormo-gigantic corporations losing customers to “quitting” can recoup losses by shifting capital into other craved crap. Philip Morris purchased Kraft (it’s the cheesiest).
Hey Bill, my body must be deficient of something found in Johnsonville sausages. Maybe my body is trying to tell me to eat more, due to a deficiency or something like that. Anyway, my opinion is as good as your fact in this new post-truth era. I crave them so much, my dietary system knows it needs it. And I always feel better after eating four or six. I mean, it’s only natural, you know what I mean? Yes. comfort foods are satisfying heritages. Eat some more turkey and let’s retire to the parlor and light up a couple big-ass cigars!
Palm oil is one such line item on a Nutrition Label that provides no nutrients. It simply excites a pleasure center in the brain, a chemical that induces a satisfying sensation for the palate. Must.eat.more.must… Eating just one is cheating.
Thanks for reading.
Today I am putting on my Mad Alliterator hat to celebrate the penultimate day of the week. It seems to be a tradition for blogs to toss out loose threads on the day of Fri, so here are some non sequiturs. Speaking of Latin, did you know that the Arabic names for the days o’ the week are based on the sequential numbers 1 through 7? Seven sequential sequiturs.
PATRIOTISM, n.Combustible rubbish ready to the torch of any one ambitious to illuminate his name.
In Dr. Johnson’s famous dictionary patriotism is defined as the last resort of a scoundrel. With all due respect to an enlightened but inferior lexicographer I beg to submit that it is the first.
Only in America... can...
I'm proud to be an...where at least...?
What corrupts absolutely? Macht macht es recht, oder? (Power makes it right, right?)
I glance askance as a perfect storm approaches and I shudder. A quick aside to my reader:
“Actually it looks like a great many storms are lining up and spreading out. But not to worry, climate change is real, but not as real as reality-TV. So put it on the back burner for now (ever). Slogan to accompany: “A miracle a day keeps climate change at bay.”
Halloween rescheduled this year to Election Day.
2016 to date: Native Americans lead the list of persons killed by the police.
At this moment there are twice as many chickens on the planet as homo sapiens. Details at your local ultra-mega-super market. A pop quiz: what do advertising and marketing have in common?
Answer to follow.
Thanks for reading
A sentient being is a bag of chemicals, skin is its largest organ. Sentient beings walk, fly and swim around in a bag holding every other organ.
Each is a biochemical factory that absorbs nutrients and toxins, then discharges them as excreted waste products.
What happens when you consume something?
As vegan I affirm the right of fellow planetary inhabitants to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Veganism does not exclude other sentient beings from that life, liberty and pursuit.
Today’s theme: discomfort foods.
A discomfort food is as fulsome as the original definition of fulsome. Sentient-beings’ skin and the organs they contain are craved and craven. Douglas Adams suggested the disquieting breach of accepted protocol that comes upon meeting meat
Douglas Adams’ cow that wants to be eaten
So when does craving become craven?
After a few years of pursuing veganism your body cleanses at the molecular level. Eventually each toxin-laden cell is replaced. Initially you feel sluggish because your body is going through detox. SOS is status quo cell replacement. Removing all flesh-based substances also replaces the craving for more and more.
A vegetarian diet that includes byproducts in the form of cheese and other dairy stuffs prevents that crave from leaving the organ bag. Those free-sample cubes of cheese in the supermarket spark an impulse to eat more.
Yes, it takes time to replace trillions of cells, but the cycle is broken. Once I conducted an experiment in the supermarket fish aisle. I ate a shrimp placed on the free samples table. Five minutes later my tongue yielded foam as toxic discharge.
It was uncomfortable. I felt like a cannibal.
Sacred Mountain yet rests above the Ohio River in Delhi Hills 45238. But you’ll have to dig under a plentitude of 1960s houses and apartments that is still called Delshire. I call it the scou…
Source: Sacred Mountain, Lost City and an Apocryphal Wolf | 315glenroy
Harry Sinclair Lewis died in 1951; he would be 131 years old today, had he avoided death. Like the swan song that marks the extinction of a sound frequency: never to be heard again, our auditory system erases a frequency from its database. When a genuine journalist dies she is not simply replaced.
Before the 17 candidates became the one I could not identify the sound of DJT’s voice from the sound of any other. It’s like a reverse swan song: from never heard to ever heard. I have yet to watch a single episode of “The Apprentice” and don’t plan to mar my record.
Sinclair Lewis explicated the incredible, the darkest shadows of homo sapiens. He dubbed the vile industry of meat manufacture a jungle. Where is the heart of that darkness today? Gone? No. The Jungle, published in 1906, has morphed into a spectacle that only grows larger — gross consumption. The rhythm of Trump’s speech slithers into my ear like a Dune-sized ear worm.
Bread and circuses and reality (TV)
What is a bold challenge? It’s marketing jargon for carefully controlled and crafted lying. It’s a way to make a living — if you can live with yourself.
But is there a downside?
I’m thinking of submitting product names to a local Cincinnati cleaning products company. I have two so far: “Pontius Pilate Hand Sanitizer” and “Lady Macbeth Soap.”
Ad copy suggestions:
“Naturally it’s flavored”
“Naturally it’s colored”
When shopping for the slouchiest in decadent snacks, discerning and discriminating hosts choose palm oil, the chemical that clings to ingested molecules for a longer acting crave experience that does not rely on saturated fats.
Thanks for reading.
Yesterday I met a young mother and her infant child at the annual PCRF
I gazed into the eyes of that beautiful woman and her precious child. Let me just inform you that they are in Cincinnati because those who can help transcended borders and the powers that be, to bring them to Ohio. Helping the helpless. Something that defines Menschheit
(the word for “humanity” in German and Yiddish). Mother and child are here because white phosphorous burns to the bone. And, yes, it happened in Gaza.
Yesterday brought souls together to share inextinguishable joy in the very spite of every attempt to extinguish the spirit of a proud people, century-long family traditions in culture, history and charm.
Yes, they melted my heart, moistened my eyes.
The occupiers who uproot ancient olive trees wishes that these people would plant their ancient roots anywhere but along the paradise
of a Mediterranean shore that has nourished Philistines (Filistina) for so long.
The occupiers boast of residing in a land celebrated as mere desert waiting for miracle workers to bring seed to fruit. The evicted and exiled Philistine people have every right listed in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
, including a refugee’s right to return. The United States signed this document in 1948, the year of Nakba
Yesterday I attended the PCRF picnic and enjoyed splendid company, warm smiles and genuine enthusiasm. Most importantly it was an opportunity to meet people who better our world by healing wounds, providing support for families and restoring hope that the youngest and most innocent among us may flourish.
Such a delight and a privilege to speak personally with people who work miracles in the course of their daily lives. Cynicism and disillusionment are not support systems within PCRF: joy derived from mending deep wounds humbles the ego and makes room for love.