They’ve pissed a lot of people off with their ridiculous and insulting advertising campaigns, campaigns in which the raising and slaughtering of chickens for human consumption has been equated to the Holocaust, and in which the treatment of food animals has been likened to the enslavement of African-Americans. But if you needed any further proof that the fine people of PETA were barking mad, our friend Gilad has alerted us to PETA’s latest bit of tomfoolery: convincing us that fish are warm, fuzzy, and cute.
I guess the theory is, we don’t eat warm, fuzzy, cute beasts. Cats and dogs are not on the American menu. Yet. A few more years of bad economic times, and we’re likely to see some changes in that department.
[As for me, there are a few warm, fuzzy, cute beasts I am all too happy to eat. That soft, wooly lambie, f’r instance.]
But back to PETA.
Their latest campaign is a crude attempt to jack up the cuteness factor of fish by calling them “sea kittens.” I shit you not.
Instead of Catfish, PETA has given us the Fish-Cat. Jeezus.
Sea Kitten. The fish that shits in a box!
Fish are beautiful in their own way; I’ll grant you that. But no amount of public relations bullshit is going to give a fish warm blood, fur, or the ability to cuddle up in your lap while you watch “The Simpsons.” Unless PETA is secretly advocating some sort of horrible Fishtank of Doctor Moreau gene-splicing technology.
PETA’s crude attempt to make fish into sympathetic victim-class mammal wannabees turns outright bizarre when you read their Sea Kitten Stories. Take the story of Tony the Trout: Not even MAD magazine could write a two-pager so perversely bathetic, it becomes pants-pissingly funny. Inadvertent humor at its finest.
It ain’t gonna stop me from eating fish. Hell, just last Monday, the Missus and I had fish at every meal. Gravlax, sushi, steelhead trout... and all very, very yummy. And as for Tasty Mammals, perhaps I’ll start calling them “Land Tuna.”
I guess the theory is, we don’t eat warm, fuzzy, cute beasts. Cats and dogs are not on the American menu. Yet. A few more years of bad economic times, and we’re likely to see some changes in that department.
[As for me, there are a few warm, fuzzy, cute beasts I am all too happy to eat. That soft, wooly lambie, f’r instance.]
But back to PETA.
Their latest campaign is a crude attempt to jack up the cuteness factor of fish by calling them “sea kittens.” I shit you not.
Instead of Catfish, PETA has given us the Fish-Cat. Jeezus.
Sea Kitten. The fish that shits in a box!
Fish are beautiful in their own way; I’ll grant you that. But no amount of public relations bullshit is going to give a fish warm blood, fur, or the ability to cuddle up in your lap while you watch “The Simpsons.” Unless PETA is secretly advocating some sort of horrible Fishtank of Doctor Moreau gene-splicing technology.
PETA’s crude attempt to make fish into sympathetic victim-class mammal wannabees turns outright bizarre when you read their Sea Kitten Stories. Take the story of Tony the Trout: Not even MAD magazine could write a two-pager so perversely bathetic, it becomes pants-pissingly funny. Inadvertent humor at its finest.
It ain’t gonna stop me from eating fish. Hell, just last Monday, the Missus and I had fish at every meal. Gravlax, sushi, steelhead trout... and all very, very yummy. And as for Tasty Mammals, perhaps I’ll start calling them “Land Tuna.”
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