St. Martin’s Day
A German holiday, as far as I know, the last day to slaughter any livestock that are not worth feeding through the winter, or those you could not afford to feed through the winter.
Today I slaughtered four ducks, the last four drakes of the lot. I did not slaughter them because I could not afford to feed them through the length of winter (although they did eat an incredible amount), nor were the not worth feeding. These four were butchered this morning because I hold a firm belief that those of us who indulge on the flesh of other living creatures should at least once in their life, kill their own food. I prefer more that people raise and then kill their own food actually, as it gives a sense of respect for the animals we all love to eat.
To raise and slaughter animals for food might seem barbaric to some of you sensitive types out there, and if I have made you a little queasy at the thought of killing an animal you’ve seen from very small to very large, good. You should feel a little sick, and not because you see me killing a duck that I raised. But because chances are, if you are upset right now, then you never have killed your own food. All you’ve done your entire life is go to the supermarket for what you eat, somehow believing that because you didn’t kill the animal that you are free of any guilt, and free as well of any association with the horrid conditions in which most animals are raised.
And just in case any vegel-marauding, irritating fucking PETA types are reading this, GO FUCK YOURSELVES! I hate you guys with a fucking passion. Always and forever badgering people about eating animals, and meat is murder and blah blah blah. Couple of things for you pathetic cowards; we all eat something, and eating a plant is still ‘murder’ for lack of better word, and well, murder tastes fucking good, be it a cabbage or a duck.
Well people, I’m out. Enjoy Veterans Day, or as some of you might call it, Armistice Day. Later days.
Out.