I’m a neat freak. I love cleaning and getting rid of trash. So, I was just going through all of my blog files, and I found this little gem. By gem I mean you might hate me after you read it. When I first published it on my old Salon blog about five years ago, my entire book club, even that one other liberal person who had the misfortune of living in a bright red state, told me what an asshole I was for picking on hunters. So, I thought I would be an even bigger asshole and publish it again.
In the style of Sophia Petrillo, picture it, Fort Wayne Indiana, 2010.
I feel like I should hear banjos whenever I leave the house. The sound track for this town should just be an endless stream of banjos, played by people with straw hanging out of their mouths, firmly lodged between their two front teeth. Seriously, living in Fort Wayne, IN, when you’ve been brought up in a larger city, one with arts, culture and a real airport can be challenging. We moved here for the husband’s job, but secretly I came here looking for Mayberry, and got a whole other kind of stereotypical town, without the warmer climate and southern charm.
South Florida had gotten too gritty, too ghetto and too foreign. It just wasn’t the place it used to be. So, when the job opportunity popped up for my husband, I fully supported a move up north. We first got here in January of 2007, and it was a winter wonderland. There was glistening snow everywhere, and our neighbors brought us cookies when we moved in. Stuff like this just didn’t happen “back home”. At first, I loved it here.
I remember the first time I saw a child’s picture in the paper holding up the head of a dead deer with a rifle laying next to him. I was horrified. If my son killed an animal, I would punish him, not put it in the paper. My friends who have been brought up in the Midwest tell me that this is common. It’s common to hunt, and common to take children hunting. It’s common to congratulate them when they kill something. Seriously?
Months later, while looking at a new friend’s Facebook page, I saw that she had a picture of her young daughter holding a gun and a dead turkey. Seriously? This is such a foreign concept to a South Florida girl. We don’t go hunting. We go dancing and shopping. We go to the beach and the deli, the REAL deli, not McAlister’s or Big Apple Bagels.
In today’s paper, someone from the ASPCA wrote in to support a ban on “penning” foxes and coyotes. I had no clue what they were talking about until I read the entire letter. Man, was I horrified. I’m pasting a link here, but, in a nutshell, some goobers in this country, in an effort to train their huntin’ dawgs, capture foxes and coyotes and put them in a fenced area. Then, probably after they crack open a fine can of Old Milwaukee, they release the dogs. The dogs, of course, beat the crap out of the foxes and coyotes. When they are done with them, if the wild animals are still alive, they simply dump the animals in a wooded area and leave them to die. http://www.humanesociety.org/issues/fox_penning/
These are probably the same people who beat their wives and children and scratch their privates in public. Seriously! Why would anyone want to hunt and or torture animals FOR FUN. Is there nothing good on the Dish network? No Mountain Dew sponsored sporting events to watch?
Yes, I eat meat, and yes I get where it comes from. If I HAD To go kill my own dinner, I would be a vegan. The good news is that I don’t HAVE to kill anything because there are these things called grocery stores. Yes, a new concept I know. No one HAS to kill their own food as we are not out on the prairie or trapped in The Hunger Games.
Please tell me where I have to live because I really do not fit in here. Is there an internet quiz I can take or something?