I hate November. Not because it gets dark at noon. Not because I have to come down off the sugar rush brought on by Halloween (we still have Reese's peanut butter cups but don't think about touching them - I will knife you as sure as I'm sitting here). It's not even because of the really bad art that was posted all over Facebook today in honor of Veteran's Day (seriously, though, the people who create those eagle-superimposed-on-an-American Flag images should have to surrender their Photoshop software or face criminal charges). Nor is it the fact that November signals the start of the frenzied holiday season.
I don't like November because it involves so much death. I realize I am very much in the minority here, but stay with me for a moment. I promise my next blog entry will tackle some heady topic, like: why does my daughter walk right past her dad in order to ask me to do something for her? Has he simply convinced her that he is incompetent and that her best bet is to head straight for the parent who has a uterus?
I love Thanksgiving. Even though I am a vegetarian, there is always plenty to eat. I just skip the turkey, the dressing, the gravy, and anything else that looks like it might have dead animal flesh in it. Usually, that still leaves a ton of stuff I can eat, including dessert. Since I don't make a turkey myself, of course, I never host Thanksgiving. So, really, it's a stress-free holiday for me. I usually visit my family in Virginia or Oklahoma for Thanksgiving, but this year I didn't have the vacation time or the money, so I'm sticking around. A friend has invited us over for the big meal (the friend is my daughter's Godfather's brother - got all that?) They have a huge family and know how to organize a meal. So, Abel will call us with a very specific item to bring and all we have to do is bring it. The day will involve a lot of eating, socializing, and - in all probability - some wine. I just can't get too crazy because I have to get up early the next morning and risk my life for a $5 Barbie.
Suicide Food, which highlights advertisements that feed into the idea that cows and chickens and pigs are absolutely ecstatic at having the opportunity to be someone's dinner. A prime example is the ever-popular barbecue sign showing a beaming pig holding a cleaver. Ew.
I dunno. I guess I'm a little off-kilter (you know, cuckoo) but when it comes to Thanksgiving, I prefer to focus on family and gratitude and giving. I prefer my holidays to be cruelty-free, I guess.
I'm not done with my rant, though. Today I saw my first (of the season) deer carcass shoved onto the back of a pickup truck. I dread this every year. I have friends who are hunters (I'm pretty sure some of them just go along for the beer) so I don't want to paint all hunters with the same brush. However, I just don't get it. It makes my heart hurt every November, to see deer after deer lashed to trucks, blood crusted here and there, their dignity gone. And don't try telling me that hunter is feeding his hungry poverty-stricken family. That hunter has a tricked-out, extended cab, dualie truck that cost almost as much as my house. And don't try telling me that the hunters are concerned about wildlife management, either. That argument just doesn't hold water. At the end of the day, I just can't separate wild animals from the ones who live in my house. All animals are the same to me. I was incredibly sad to learn, earlier this week, that the western black rhino has officially been declared extinct. Talk about "wildlife management." Wildlife fared a lot better before humankind stepped in to "manage" it. But, I digress.
People will continue to hunt. Millions will continue to eat turkey and won't worry too much about where it came from. I guess I'll just be the lone crazy person who doesn't really understand.