June 12, 2007
So we went and tried crab legs a couple of nights ago.
That could've been a bad move.
I've spent most of my life eating protien sources that didn't look like they were ever alive.
Steak doesn't look like a cow. It's just a muscle.
Fish doesn't look like a fish. It's just a filet.
Turkey and chicken can kind of look like the live birds, but at least by the time I've gotten ahold of them, they haven't had feathers or beaks of feet or anything like that.
There was always enough distance between me and the original animal that I could claim that I wasn't killing the animals. They were already dead. There wasn't any moral culpability on my part. I was just picking up a bit of flesh that somebody else had butchered, throwing it on the grill, and chowing down.
And then came the crab legs.
Sure, the body was gone. The head wasn't around. The eyes had been picked out and thrown to the side for the seagulls to feast upon.
But the legs were intact.
I had to rip the legs apart section by section and pick out the meat.
To quote Robert Oppenheimer who quoted the Bhagavad Gita, "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."
There is no stopping me from here.
Tomorrow night we got hunting for soft shell crabs - body and all, fried and thrown down on a plate, succulent and ready for spearing.
After that it's a challenge to head into the world of lobster, staring at the helpless creatures in their little aquarium, choosing one, sentencing it to death, hearing his high-pitched screams as they are thrown into the boiling water, well on their way in their journey into my gullet.
After that, we find a farm that will let us butcher the cow, throw it onto a bed of hot coals, and tip into its tasty flesh with our bare hands and teeth, half-cooked, blood-drenched meat juices dripping down our mouths, mixing into my beard.
I am carnivore!
Top of the food chain!
All shall bow before my horrific appetites!