My candidate for blog post of the week:
In my perfect world, if you�re not willing to accept that fact, and, in fact, aren�t willing to participate in the process of slaughtering the animal � if only as an observer � you are not allowed to eat meat. Okay? You don�t get to eat it, and you get slapped if you try. You�re a limp-wristed cowardly little shit who wants to eat what comes from an animal and yet fervently pretend that meat is an abstract product that tastes good and magically appears in stores and restaurants for you to buy. It doesn�t.
It’s long bothered me that the modern way of living separates the idea of �meat� from the idea of �animal�. Too many kids if asked �Where does meat come from?� will answer �From the supermarket� without realising that there’s another, more accurate answer.
I’m an unashamed carnivore. I can deal with the fact that meat is dead animal. My favourite butcher, near where my mother lives in Suffolk, is essentially an abattoir with a shop stuck on the side. Why do I like it? Because I trust the butcher. I know he’s killing humanely. I know he cares about the quality of animal that goes in, and that means he cares about the quality of life they have before. A happy animal, on the whole, means good meat.
Most people, it seems, are stuck in a mixture of hypocrisy and denial about this. This leads to the idiocy of people decrying (and banning) fox hunting for cruelty, while chowing down on their battery-produced chicken meals. And that’s why I like Mikki’s post so much. It’s nice to see the brutal truth once in a while.
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