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| Oh man. |
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| OH MAN. |
A while ago the New York Times
ran a contest of sorts where people could send in essays about their ethical
reasons for eating meat. Obviously,
there are plenty of ethical reasons NOT to eat meat. For some people it’s a religious thing; for
others it’s political; for others stll, it’s environmental. For a lot of people it’s a health issue. Some people just plain don’t like it.
I get all those, but if I don’t
eat meat, I feel like a sad little anemic red blood cell. My insides have frowny faces if I don’t get a
regular dose of hamburger.
Also I’m training for a 10K, and
while it’s totally possible to be vegetarian or even vegan and have a really
hardcore athletic lifestyle, it just wouldn’t work for me. I promise.
I don't know when the Times' contest closed, and honestly I don't really have a good ethical reason to eat meat; I just need to eat meat.
I’m also not sure why I feel the need
to defend my omnivorism. I suppose it really
only comes down to the fact that I wouldn’t mind eating steak for breakfast.
In fact, I have eaten steak for breakfast. And I feel like a lot of people would judge
me for that.
Here’s a poem I wrote a few years
ago about the process of cooking a whole chicken:
Dinner
for Two
A
pair of shears, the yellow, mottled fat.
Insistent
hands tear bone from shiny pink
Muscle,
and I toss some to the cat.
I
never knew a “tender” was a part—
I
just thought fast food chains devised the name.
You
show to me the kidneys and the heart,
The wishbone sits to dry, our little game.
The
Pope’s nose cut away, the spine thrown out,
The
pieces, two by two, lined on a pan.
Defrocked,
defiled, the skin is strewn about,
We
scoop it up, we dump it in the can.
By
ten o’clock, our dinner’s nearly done.
I
don’t mind eating late—my heart, you’ve won.
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