As bad as strangling a chicken with your bare hands to make homemade chicken nuggets might sound, I can't help but feel that taking ownership of your decision that a chicken needs to die so you can have your dinner is a much preferable and healthier act for society as a whole than paying for someone else to do the murder so you can keep your hands free from the animal's blood and your conscience free from knowing of its pain during its final moments.
If meat is murder, then buying meat is the act of making murderers. Because someone has to do it. Someone somewhere has to kill the chickens. And you'd rather overpay for a product of inferior quality, processed and saturated with preservatives that allow edible death to stay edible for longer, than for that person to have to be you.
One could say that only wimps and children eat chicken nuggets they refuse to make for themselves. That they think the pleasure taking place in their mouths at the time is worth more than the agony collosal farms of these enslaved creatures must endure every day, who I'm guessing, would much prefer the chance to just be themselves, only ever knowing the sense of being free to roam the land as they wish.
Perhaps our own personal frustrations at not feeling free finds a therapeutic outlet in the act of eating those battered balls of 'who knows the fuck what', packaged and served to us in colourful cardboard fantasies, stripped of all traces of their unsettling back stories and overwritten with ones that are fun and entertaining for the whole family?
Perhaps chicken nuggets provide a bastion for those meat-eating consumers too sensitive and emotionally fragile to accept their complicity in the unnecessary mass murdering of animals in order to satisfy their hunger in a convenient way?
No comments:
Post a Comment