Elizabeth_Cade
07-27-05, 01:39 AM
An Old and New Holocaust
Pastures of emerald-green grass, so neat it could’ve been cut by hand with scissors, are shaded in all the right areas by tall oak or walnut trees; a big red or mahogany barn sits in the center of the pasture, a perfect little square, wooden fence is on one side; and the sky is the perfect shade of blue and only a few fluffy white clouds float in the area surrounding the bright golden sun, whose rays are merrily warming the scene aforementioned.
On the pastures of the farm, standing on the emerald-green grass, are cute little cows that have been splotched with big, unique black patterns. They are eating the grass, in harmony with the atmosphere surrounding them, and talking to each other in their language. The cows are happy, giving their offspring milk when hungry, and they lazily soak up the sun. The mother cows love and nurture their babies on instinct, while the bulls protect their wives and children. And the babies are just beginning to learn ways to have fun, cause mischief, and communicate.
Inside the barn’s loft, a pile of dry, golden-white straw is cradling a white chicken with a red chin. The chicken is resting happily, ready to lay her eggs at her own pace and at her own comfort. To the chicken’s left there is a happy little mixture of cute little farm animals—a couple pigs eating out of a trough, a few chickens pecking the ground for any remainder of seed that might have dropped from the bag, and some bigger animals like cows and horses—enveloped in that square wooden fence. And, high above the farm animals’ heads, cute little blue birds chirp and sing and fly around all day before going home to their families, too.
And that’s where meat, eggs, and dairy come from. They come from cheery little picture-perfect images that are on napkins and…uh, NOT!
The cheery little napkin images are all lies from the meat industry—a cover-up of what really happens.
First of all, there is no such place. The animals don’t go to places like that to die; they go to filthy hellholes filled with cages and cruel machines. The cows aren’t free to roam a field all day, eating grass and snuggling with their loved ones; the chickens aren’t nestling in nice, high, sunny lofts in a pile of comfortable hay; and the sun certainly isn’t shining over their heads as they go through a nice long day.
That’s right. Sorry to break it to ya, but those silly little childhood images you saw in picture books weren’t really true. Are you ready to know what really happens? Well, listen up, because I’m about to give it to you straight, so forget that happy little image I just wrote about and open your mind so can better learn the truth…
The Truth We Were Bound To Find Out:
The meat industry can’t always cover up what they’re really doing.
The truth always triumphs and all that other good stuff. You can’t tell a lie without it eventually getting out; just like you can’t hide your mom’s favorite vase after you’ve broken it: Your mom is bound to find out what happened when she comes home and it is gone. So why does the meat industry believe they can cover up their lies?
What is it that they’re really doing, you ask? Well, there are two answers to that question; there is the short answer and there is the long answer. The answers will both be listed in this article, in respective orders, of course. So, then, the short answer: murder. That’s what they’re really doing. And then the long answer:
They, the workers in slaughterhouses, are doing as much as they can to slip by the rules. The slaughterers believe, as do most meat-eaters, that animals don’t feel pain or fear or anxiety or…well, you get it. In their minds, it is okay to slaughter an animal and it is even more humane to then eat it or maybe wear it. But, wait, not just any animal can be slaughtered for food or skin or hides; only the animals that have been labeled by society as objects (not living, breathing, feeling creatures) are the ones that get the honor of being slaughtered. Insert sarcasm here.
These animals that are labeled objects are usually farmed animals that one wouldn’t really keep as a cuddly pet—so, if you’re a cat or a dog or a hamster or a horse, then you can’t be slaughtered, but if you’re a cow or a pig or a chicken, people are ready to turn you into a hamburger or a hot dog or a nugget! In fact, in U.S. laws, if someone were to commit a foul act against a cat or a dog, they would receive jail time—and quite a lot of jail time, too; not just twenty-four hours. But slaughtering pigs and cows and chickens is okay—in other words, no jail; in fact, you can even go home and EAT your kill!
So, we criticize people in other countries for eating dogs and cats, but then meat-eaters come home and enjoy a nice piece of a cow’s butt with a side of bloody, feces-covered chicken. Doesn’t that sound like a great meal to you? Yeah, well, I’m going to stick to my nice, safe vegan diet, thanks.
Murder is what they’re doing behind those windowless sheds with the wire cages and other confinement systems.
Now, what are you going to do about it?
If you’re not going to do anything, be my guest and go clog your arteries until your heart stops beating, but let me tell you this: those animals cry when they’re scared, scream when the pain is unbearable for their tiny, overworked bodies, and they bleed when their throats are slit or when they’re gutted without painkillers. They bleed. They bleed and bleed and bleed until there is no more life in their broken bodies. And then what do they do? They die.
And for these animals, death is pure bliss. Death is an escape from tightly-packed wire cages, painful injections, cruel treatment from the workers, and an inhumane slaughter that is the most painful thing they do in their short lives. It’s the last thing they do. It’s the last thing they remember before dying. And it’s the last feeling they experienced, the last moment they lived. So much for a quiet, peaceful death.
In conclusion to my long rant, factory farms are not your childhood image. And the above article is just about meat. It hasn’t even hinted about the fur industry, the dairy or fishing industries, and how much animal rights activists hate circuses. So, if you are willing to choose compassion, maybe it’s time to go vegetarian.
If only slaughterhouses had glass walls…
END (for now)
Pastures of emerald-green grass, so neat it could’ve been cut by hand with scissors, are shaded in all the right areas by tall oak or walnut trees; a big red or mahogany barn sits in the center of the pasture, a perfect little square, wooden fence is on one side; and the sky is the perfect shade of blue and only a few fluffy white clouds float in the area surrounding the bright golden sun, whose rays are merrily warming the scene aforementioned.
On the pastures of the farm, standing on the emerald-green grass, are cute little cows that have been splotched with big, unique black patterns. They are eating the grass, in harmony with the atmosphere surrounding them, and talking to each other in their language. The cows are happy, giving their offspring milk when hungry, and they lazily soak up the sun. The mother cows love and nurture their babies on instinct, while the bulls protect their wives and children. And the babies are just beginning to learn ways to have fun, cause mischief, and communicate.
Inside the barn’s loft, a pile of dry, golden-white straw is cradling a white chicken with a red chin. The chicken is resting happily, ready to lay her eggs at her own pace and at her own comfort. To the chicken’s left there is a happy little mixture of cute little farm animals—a couple pigs eating out of a trough, a few chickens pecking the ground for any remainder of seed that might have dropped from the bag, and some bigger animals like cows and horses—enveloped in that square wooden fence. And, high above the farm animals’ heads, cute little blue birds chirp and sing and fly around all day before going home to their families, too.
And that’s where meat, eggs, and dairy come from. They come from cheery little picture-perfect images that are on napkins and…uh, NOT!
The cheery little napkin images are all lies from the meat industry—a cover-up of what really happens.
First of all, there is no such place. The animals don’t go to places like that to die; they go to filthy hellholes filled with cages and cruel machines. The cows aren’t free to roam a field all day, eating grass and snuggling with their loved ones; the chickens aren’t nestling in nice, high, sunny lofts in a pile of comfortable hay; and the sun certainly isn’t shining over their heads as they go through a nice long day.
That’s right. Sorry to break it to ya, but those silly little childhood images you saw in picture books weren’t really true. Are you ready to know what really happens? Well, listen up, because I’m about to give it to you straight, so forget that happy little image I just wrote about and open your mind so can better learn the truth…
The Truth We Were Bound To Find Out:
The meat industry can’t always cover up what they’re really doing.
The truth always triumphs and all that other good stuff. You can’t tell a lie without it eventually getting out; just like you can’t hide your mom’s favorite vase after you’ve broken it: Your mom is bound to find out what happened when she comes home and it is gone. So why does the meat industry believe they can cover up their lies?
What is it that they’re really doing, you ask? Well, there are two answers to that question; there is the short answer and there is the long answer. The answers will both be listed in this article, in respective orders, of course. So, then, the short answer: murder. That’s what they’re really doing. And then the long answer:
They, the workers in slaughterhouses, are doing as much as they can to slip by the rules. The slaughterers believe, as do most meat-eaters, that animals don’t feel pain or fear or anxiety or…well, you get it. In their minds, it is okay to slaughter an animal and it is even more humane to then eat it or maybe wear it. But, wait, not just any animal can be slaughtered for food or skin or hides; only the animals that have been labeled by society as objects (not living, breathing, feeling creatures) are the ones that get the honor of being slaughtered. Insert sarcasm here.
These animals that are labeled objects are usually farmed animals that one wouldn’t really keep as a cuddly pet—so, if you’re a cat or a dog or a hamster or a horse, then you can’t be slaughtered, but if you’re a cow or a pig or a chicken, people are ready to turn you into a hamburger or a hot dog or a nugget! In fact, in U.S. laws, if someone were to commit a foul act against a cat or a dog, they would receive jail time—and quite a lot of jail time, too; not just twenty-four hours. But slaughtering pigs and cows and chickens is okay—in other words, no jail; in fact, you can even go home and EAT your kill!
So, we criticize people in other countries for eating dogs and cats, but then meat-eaters come home and enjoy a nice piece of a cow’s butt with a side of bloody, feces-covered chicken. Doesn’t that sound like a great meal to you? Yeah, well, I’m going to stick to my nice, safe vegan diet, thanks.
Murder is what they’re doing behind those windowless sheds with the wire cages and other confinement systems.
Now, what are you going to do about it?
If you’re not going to do anything, be my guest and go clog your arteries until your heart stops beating, but let me tell you this: those animals cry when they’re scared, scream when the pain is unbearable for their tiny, overworked bodies, and they bleed when their throats are slit or when they’re gutted without painkillers. They bleed. They bleed and bleed and bleed until there is no more life in their broken bodies. And then what do they do? They die.
And for these animals, death is pure bliss. Death is an escape from tightly-packed wire cages, painful injections, cruel treatment from the workers, and an inhumane slaughter that is the most painful thing they do in their short lives. It’s the last thing they do. It’s the last thing they remember before dying. And it’s the last feeling they experienced, the last moment they lived. So much for a quiet, peaceful death.
In conclusion to my long rant, factory farms are not your childhood image. And the above article is just about meat. It hasn’t even hinted about the fur industry, the dairy or fishing industries, and how much animal rights activists hate circuses. So, if you are willing to choose compassion, maybe it’s time to go vegetarian.
If only slaughterhouses had glass walls…
END (for now)