Tag Archives: Florida

Lions And Tacos And Farms

Holy. Shit. Did you know there are Lion Farmers?

Meaning, there are dudes who raise lions like cows or something, and then they slaughter them and sell them for meat. Who in the world is up for a little lion meat, you ask? Where are these guys selling their lion chops?

Florida. According to CNN, a Florida Restaurant Sells Lion Tacos.

Sliders 2Are we on Sliders? Is this a parallel universe? I guess I’m baffled – if you’re allowed to eat lion around here, then why hasn’t everyone been chomping down lion for the last few decades? You’d think we’d be breeding big, fat lions and packing them eyeless and toothless into warehouses with retractable roofs. Feeding them dead chickens from the factory egg farms. Something classy, the way we usually roll.

And if we’re not allowed to eat lions, then why is this restaurant selling lion tacos?

The answer – which I thought would be shocking but was instead presented rather blithely – is that yes, you sure can sell lion. And okay, that answers that, go ahead and sell it, go ahead and eat it. I’m not going to start freaking out til I’ve thought it through.

But my knee-jerk reaction is, you’re sort of a dick if you want to eat a lion taco. Let’s test my hypothesis against the rest of the article.

Well, they’re $35. So I think we all know that if Charlie is willing to pay $35 for a taco, then Charlie is sort of a dick. Especially if the basic reason that the taco is $35, is that we’re running out of the animal in it.

See, they are listed as “threatened” and not “endangered.” That’s why it’s cool to make tacos out of them. Ah – the system works, yes?

Ron SwansonI don’t know why it bugs me so much. We eat a lot of animals up in here, yes we do. And pigs are smart, for example – see Charlotte’s Web – and we eat them like they’re made of bacon. Why am I cool with eating pigs and not cool with eating lions?

Good question. I’m going to drink this beer and blog about it for a bit, and then maybe I’ll be able to tell you.

But apparently there’s an animal rights organization called Born Free USA which “embarked on an undercover investigation into the lion meat trade in 2011.” They’re pretty freaking sure you shouldn’t be eating lions

Ugh. That description I belted out a few paragraphs ago about how we’d handle legalized lion meat? Sounds like I was on the money. Here’s the day-ruining link for you. Born Free is currently engaged in talking the government into reclassifying lions as “endangered,” at which point you will no longer be allowed to eat lion tacos.

CNN interviews a guy who’s just eaten a lion taco, and sure enough, as I predicted, his name suggests he’s kind of a dick, just as much as his taco selection:

“I thought the lion was good,” said patron Lee Weiner. “It didn’t taste too gamey to me, similar to steak.”

Lion KingYeah. Not too gamey. Hey, that’s great. Every time I see one of these majestic creatures, that’s what I think. Proud, strong, graceful, deadly, probably not too gamey to eat on a taco.

By the way, would you like to know what else you can have on a taco that’s similar to steak, and costs a lot less? If you send me $35, Mister Weiner, I will be happy to tell you. Depending on how many tacos you eat, the information could easily pay for itself in a single day. Give me a ring-ding.

But again, time to look in the mirror. Let me just type as many animals as I can think of in one minute, that I’ve eaten over the years in non-survival situations:

Cow, lamb, goat, chicken, pheasant, turtle, pig, fish, lobster, deer, elk, bear, crawfish, alligator, bison, duck, quail, ostrich, rattlesnake, oyster, squirrel, rabbit

For crying out loud. I think I’ve lost my whole train of thought here. What was I talking about? Climbing up this total stranger’s ass because he ate an animal that wasn’t on my list?

Well, he did spend $35 on it, and his name is “Weiner,” so I’m not going to beat myself up all day. But yes, I wonder what possible moral criteria I might be using to determine which animals are okay to enslave and then eat. The answer appears to be, whichever ones cross my path.

The JerkHuh. So, I’m kind of a dick and the only reason I’m not eating a lion taco is because I’m a cheapskate and I’m not in Florida. I really thought this blog post was heading somewhere else, I’ll be honest with you. How bout that?

Anyway, it seems clear that the only way you’re going to get jackasses like me and Mister Weiner to not eat lion meat is to assist Born Free in their attempt to get lions officially reclassified as “endangered.”

How can you do that, you ask? By eating as many lions as possible. The problem is that they aren’t endangered enough yet. We need to really go to town on them, knock those numbers down.

No, not really. That’s dumb. Don’t listen to me, listen to Born Free. Here’s their link, in case you’d like to help them in their cause.


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Mr. Peanut, A Little Girl Needs Your Help

Dear Mr. Peanut –

It is with a heavy heart that I write this blog post, for I fear I am the bearer of troubling news, and since we’ve been Facebook friends for months now, I feel that I know your character – and I’m sadly confident that you are not going to like what I must tell you.

As you know, a small percentage of the population has a severe allergic reaction to your absolutely delicious and healthy products, and of course it’s nothing that you or your fine company have done to cause this health hazard, but I’m sure you would agree that people who cannot eat your salty treats have enough problems.  There’s no reason for us to pile any more worries upon them – I frankly can’t imagine how they sleep at night.

Sometimes, when I’m drinking an icy cold beer – I truly believe that I would die without peanuts.  Yes, and sometimes I weep for my allergy-stricken brothers and sisters, who must struggle through this harsh and bitter world without them.

But Mr. Peanut.  Sir.  I beg you to turn your mighty peanut-shell head to the situation in Edgewater, Florida right now, at the Edgewater Elementary School, where a little girl is so allergic to peanuts that even sitting next to someone who is eating them could cause an allergic reaction.

Now, I’m concerned that the lunatic headline to the article I’m about to link is going to enrage you so much that your shell is going to crack open, clunking one of your tasty brains onto the keyboard in front of you – and I couldn’t have that on my conscious, sir.  You are too important at this point in our nation’s history.  So for the sake of us all – brace yourself. 

It’s called Parents Protest Over Girl’s Peanut Allergy, and yes, you read that correctly.  Other parents are banding together and waving signs, and it’s not over unions or the middle class or taxation or even whales.

No, they’re protesting because their kids are having to make allowances to keep from killing their classmate with peanut particles.   

That’s the sort of allergy that the little girl has, you see.  I’ll just quote her mom from the same article:

“We’re not talking about she will break out in a rash. We are talking about she will die, stop breathing.”

And while it is true that the allowances are quite severe – the students are having to rinse their mouths out before entering the girl’s classroom, they’re not allowed to bring peanut products to school at all, they have to wash their hands a lot – I think you and me and anyone except the Grinch and this one batch of serious, peanut-loving parents would agree that they are not nearly as severe as death.

Death, Mr. Peanut.  I’m talking about parents who know that peanut particles could kill this girl, and yet they’re protesting because – and damn it, I’m serious – their children are missing out on iconic American childhood memories.  Like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, and bringing in cookies with peanut products in them, on birthdays.

Also, the precautions are taking up valuable classtime.  Just ask one concerned parent, who reckoned that the students spend “probably a half an hour” washing hands and rinsing.  And so she thinks that rather than sharpening her own child’s clearly-not-very-impressive hand-washing skills, everybody ought to instead just lighten up about Possible Death.

I really hadn’t realized how integral peanut products were to elementary education until I saw the little throng of parents, confident and steadfast in their conviction that the little girl’s life was worth risking in the name of Not Washing Your Hands and Fond Peanut Memories For Everybody.

“I’m really sorry about the girl’s medical condition,” none of them were quoted as saying.  “But I don’t inconvenience myself or exercise compassion or consideration or even good manners.  Not toward you, not toward Mr. Peanut, and certainly not toward an innocent little girl who would like to go to school with the rest of the kids, pursuant to federal law and the Americans With Disablities Act.”

But I’m pretty sure that’s what they meant, aren’t you, Mr. Peanut?

Notice also that they are bringing in “peanut-sniffing dogs.”  Now I know that such a concept must alarm you sir, though I’ve seen you sword fight, and I am confident no dog on Earth is any match for you, but you and I must take a moment to reflect on what would make such a move necessary – and I think we can arrive at only one conclusion.

These nasty, awful, self-centered parents who have been politely informed (in this letter from last August) of the deadly risks, have been sending their kids to school with peanut products anyway.  So they’re having to bring in dogs to figure out who’s doing it.

Let’s teach that little girl a lesson, yes?  We’ll show her how we handle people with involuntary medical conditions!

Mr. Peanut – these people are so blinded by their love of peanuts, that I fear only you can reason with them.  Only you can convince them that as tasty and healthy as peanuts are to most of us, they are not worth the life of a beautiful little girl.

Perhaps a visit to her school would be in order.  Or on second thought, maybe a video conference would be a better idea, to lessen the confusion and again, you gotta figure, she’s allergic to you, too.  Probably your footprints and farts and the sounds you make when you tapdance – everything.  Let’s try and stay focused here.

Because the fact is, here are human beings who appear to respect peanuts more than their own little sister, and if anyone can help them find their own humanity again, it’s you.  An anthropomorphic peanut.  The pinnacle of evolution here on Earth.  You have to talk to them, Mr. Peanut.  And if talking doesn’t work, then you might have to get rough.

It’s your sacred duty.  It’s the Way of the Peanut.  This little girl matters, sir, or nothing matters.  She matters – or what’s the point of peanuts at all?

Let’s show them – you and I – that eating peanuts is about togetherness and protein and yumminess and sure, if you’re 21 and acting responsibly, icy cold beers.  But it’s not about stupefying, inconsiderate bullshit, and it’s not about killing innocent little girls or even making them feel like crap about themselves, for their allergies.

I guess some folks have never seen Star Trek III: The Search For Spock, and so they haven’t learned, like Spock did, that sometimes the good of the one outweighs the good of the many.

And Captain Kirk’s not here, Mr. Peanut.  So it’s up to you and me to teach them.  Let’s saddle up, my friend – there are old-fashioned bullies afoot.  Peanut bullies, and I don’t think we can turn a blind eye.


Future Tom


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