Animal Farm Thanksgiving and the Further Hapless Adventures that a Heaping Portion of BM Has While Jockeying for Position on the Foodchain
No need to get up.
First of all, I would like to draw attention to Dave's blog underneath mine. Please read it first. I feel a bit guilty burying a new blog but when I logged on to write I expected to be greeted by something written back in September. Sorry Dave.
Ok, I got the ps out of the way first.
I have been informed that there has recently been a billboard hung off Butler street in Lawrenceville with the caption "Horses are for stables, not for tables." Fine, don't eat horses, gotcha'. But on second thought, why not eat horses? We eat pigs, cows, and chickens. Why not horses? We don't need horses for transportation anymore; the only purpose man has for the horse is to exploit this animal in the gambling arena, or to film an occassional Budwieser commercial. So, what makes the horse special?
We don't eat horses because they are good looking animals and we'd feel guilty taking a bite from a horse burger. If horses were as ugly as chickens, you'd be able to buy a horse thigh at the butcher's. We can eat a steak wrap or a bacon strip without a second thought because pigs roll in mud and cows slobber all over the place.
I think the horse for dinner taboo maintains a smooth transition into the human world. I work in Lawrencville, the home of the horse billboard, and believe you me this neighborhood, about 2 miles from downtown Pittsburgh, is a quasi-slum. Whenever I walk across the street to Starr, the adequatly priced but ridiculously rundown outlet store, for a quart of milk, I can't help but notice how ugly the residents of Lawrenceville are. Now I am no Don Johnson but these people are revolting.
I'm sure there is some major correlation between the why the poor, uglies are huddled together in the ghetto of Lawrencville and the rich, good looking yuppies are stroking each other off in my home neighborhood of Shadyside. For the record, I can't wait to paddle out of the swamp of scarves and mocha lattes of Shadyside when my lease is up.
So I say it's time to sound the dinnerbell and feast on a horse. And while we're at it, let's carve-up some of these Shadyside yuppies and drop them off in Lawrenceville so the cows, chickens, and pigs can have a wholesome meal.
"We'll all go to Heaven in a little rowboat,"
BM
First of all, I would like to draw attention to Dave's blog underneath mine. Please read it first. I feel a bit guilty burying a new blog but when I logged on to write I expected to be greeted by something written back in September. Sorry Dave.
Ok, I got the ps out of the way first.
I have been informed that there has recently been a billboard hung off Butler street in Lawrenceville with the caption "Horses are for stables, not for tables." Fine, don't eat horses, gotcha'. But on second thought, why not eat horses? We eat pigs, cows, and chickens. Why not horses? We don't need horses for transportation anymore; the only purpose man has for the horse is to exploit this animal in the gambling arena, or to film an occassional Budwieser commercial. So, what makes the horse special?
We don't eat horses because they are good looking animals and we'd feel guilty taking a bite from a horse burger. If horses were as ugly as chickens, you'd be able to buy a horse thigh at the butcher's. We can eat a steak wrap or a bacon strip without a second thought because pigs roll in mud and cows slobber all over the place.
I think the horse for dinner taboo maintains a smooth transition into the human world. I work in Lawrencville, the home of the horse billboard, and believe you me this neighborhood, about 2 miles from downtown Pittsburgh, is a quasi-slum. Whenever I walk across the street to Starr, the adequatly priced but ridiculously rundown outlet store, for a quart of milk, I can't help but notice how ugly the residents of Lawrenceville are. Now I am no Don Johnson but these people are revolting.
I'm sure there is some major correlation between the why the poor, uglies are huddled together in the ghetto of Lawrencville and the rich, good looking yuppies are stroking each other off in my home neighborhood of Shadyside. For the record, I can't wait to paddle out of the swamp of scarves and mocha lattes of Shadyside when my lease is up.
So I say it's time to sound the dinnerbell and feast on a horse. And while we're at it, let's carve-up some of these Shadyside yuppies and drop them off in Lawrenceville so the cows, chickens, and pigs can have a wholesome meal.
"We'll all go to Heaven in a little rowboat,"
BM
1 Comments:
scarves keep me warm in this city that has been nothing but cold to me.
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