Peter Schreiner leads Crows Head Soup, a vegan touchstone. Peter brings strong vegan stew to the table — you’ll find poetry that skewers the skewering, photographs of hanging carcasses, the blood slurried into storage tanks for unspecified ends. Here is the post that inspired me to write this post: Lamentations of a Veganarchist.
That’s not very nice, Bill. Where are your manners? We don’t talk about hanging cows in polite company.
Sorry. I’ll get my mind right now.
Take the scenic route on your family vacation and remark on those grass-munching cows. Talk about the time a cow escaped from a truck and ended up on the highway. Remind all that it was adopted by a nice local family. Did you know that two turkeys are presidentially pardoned every year — that it adds up to a whole lot of birds over the years. Stop at a Dairy Queen to nod approvingly on its storied history.
Thank you for opting a little common decency, Bill.
Think death camps the size of Mordor behind the hills of rural America.
Each In-N-Out Burger consumed (or tossed) triggers a supply-chain decision. Breed another cow. How now.
inventory = inventory minus one. When inventory reaches a certain level a replenishment order is issued.
Folly, arrogance and confusion gone long wrong.
Mr. Bill, do you have any idea how many blessed jobs depend on all those animal molecules you talk so long about? So long.
Do you know how many jobs are lost through extermination events of the planetary kind?
Family tours are never offered at “meat=processing facilities” but jobs are offered to the über marginalized in this economy.
The machinery grinds “resources” into hoppers for added value down the line. Marketplaces require workers’ willingness to press each shoulder to each wheel. From hopper to shopper — a lifestyle that assigns each party a horror, the insatiable appetite for more “resources”, more uses for each mighty molecule.
What is the nature of evolution? Species developed over several billion years result in predators and prey surviving in a delicate balance, absent the actions of a single specie hellbent on tipping the scale. If you are not a human, or not a specie domesticated by humans, you thrive and perish at the razor edge.
Enter the indifferent world of commerce — the scale-tippers. Tippers so cunningly successful that their own numbers increase by the billion and wild species are driven to extinction. Domesticated species are bred for extermination camps — the demands of the most insatiable homo sapiens require that the slaughter houses produce enough turnover in daily carcass units to make them economically viable processing centers in a modern society.
Thanks for reading.