I’VE always been proud that the British tend to be kinder to animals than most other nationalities. I like that we don’t eat dogs or horses or dolphins. I put that in the same category as not eating insects, although for different reasons.
These things are markers of civilisation.
Barbarians torture animals and are unselective about which creatures they will eat. Civilised people do start to put social rules around these things.
At the same time I’m actually ashamed at what hysterical, illogical, anti-human, anti-fun, sour-faced screeching Puritan nut jobs some people become when they think they are championing animals but are actually just another set of control freaks wanting the world to accord to their instructions.
‘The horses don’t have a CHOICE!’
‘Well no. They’re horses.’
‘Did you ask the horse if it wanted to DIE?’
‘No I didn’t. It’s a horse. Our communication is somewhat limited. But please tell me what the horse said to you?’
‘How can you be so HEARTLESS? I laugh when the jockeys get trampled.’
‘There’s a contradiction in there. Have a look. I’ll wait. Do you see it yet?’
I’ve just seen a meme which has the names of two dead horses and the image of a horse with wings entering the gates of heaven along a path of fluffy clouds.
The phrase ‘get a f***ing grip, you melt’ springs to mind.
If only people had become so exercised about human beings being injected with an experimental drug, or about fully formed babies being ripped apart with tongs inside the womb, or about terrorist bombings.
Kids die and people wave a candle or vote for people who in some ways, usually by their moral relativism, supported the terrorist.
Two horses die in a race . . . and NOW it’s time to PROTEST!
I’ll ask the horse what he thinks . .
One clop for I DESPAIR, two clops for GOD GIVE ME STRENGTH. Three clops?
