February 6, 2010; Animal Rights

The Mooks eat meat. I eat meat. The difference would be that violent carnivorism is supposed to be in my blood and not supposed to be in the blood of humans. Sad thing, though—somehow it is in the blood of the Mooks and, indeed, of all humans and it's not just expressed by the fact that many of you eat meat.

Humans are bizarre. Animal rights people contend that if people had to slaughter their own meat or worked in a meat-packing plant everyone would be a vegetarian. I don't think so. Humans have a way of becoming inured to suffering—wars, floods, earthquakes and human reactions to these things (ie: waning interest) tell us that. However, there's no doubt that slaughter is a dirty job few people want which is why humans pay others to do it. A dirty job, though, is just a dirty job. Do people feel sorry for the plumber who drags a ball of shit, hair and used condoms out of their toilet? No, they give him $75 an hour and forget about it. How is his job different from the man in the slaughter house? Sure the guy killing cows gets paid less but the fact is that in the eyes of most meat-eaters, he's the one who pulls the ball of shit, hair and used condoms from the toilet and—thank you very much—please don't show us what you do! We'll just go on eating our meat in peace...and shitting in our toilets too.

Animals (ie: dogs etc.) are fairly pragmatic about the killing of animals for food. At least the animals, in most cases (ignore the idiot autumn hunters) get eaten. What confuses us (animals I mean) is the killing of humans. I don't mean war or murder, I mean like capital punishment. It's pretty fucking cold-blooded (even snakes think so). The blood, moreover, is on the hands of all humanity if it is permitted anywhere. It's the plumber thing though, isn't it?: we feel tidy because we get others to do it.

So animal rights? Give me a break, when people quite guilelessly kill other people and call it justice. There's more justice, it seems to me, in the killing and eating of another being. So here's what humans really need to do first: instead of sending Great Aunt May and Pervy Uncle Dill to the slaughter house before they eat their next veal chop, how about each time they bellow about the righteousness of capital punishment you give them the needle and say, "Here! You stick it in his arm!"

It's a thought. It a confusing thought because humans, again and again, confuse me.

That's why I have decided to go ahead with my plan for Mook A and to do it in the next few days, before the first anniversary of my being here.

I'll tell you how it goes.