The swine flu elephant in the room
Colorado Springs — Money talks, and walks, and is power, and power rules. "Right" is not the question, but "might." And when pork producers indicate they do not appreciate the valid moniker, "Swine Flu," the CDC, WHO and most of the media, clicks its heels, turns itself around, does the hokey pokey and slaps on an obscure "h1n1" label.
Now that is real power.
The sad fact is, when you feel guilty about something, you do not discuss that guilt-inducing thing, even when it is sitting out there right in the middle of the room. You talk around it. You walk around it. Because why focus on something negative?
Instead, slap out some snappy slogans, helpful, positive slogans, such as: "The flu is mild!" and "Vaccine is coming!" and "Wash your hands!" All very nice to say, and think about, and even comforting. Kind of like comfort food.
"Pork is safe to eat" is another such spiffy slogan, which even includes the comfort food. Oh there you go, right now, you are feeling it. It is similar to a dark and vibrating anxiety, that you just cannot quite put your finger on. But you feel it. Yes, you do. Deep down. That comfort. That food.
Because you know it. Deep down, you do. The facts are there. You know about the filth in an industry where living, breathing animals with emotions, become pieces and parts and cogs in a massive machine. Pigs, those oh so filthy brutes, become produce at your grocery store. Under shiny plastic, those pieces and parts of the bloody corpse look clean, antiseptic, almost sparkling.
Hey, that is food, you recognize it as such. It is food, and it is good, and it is certainly safe to eat. The Food and Drug Administration says so, and we trust them, because they have been to college. They are certified. Doctors and scientists and administrators and bankers and businessmen. A lot of money is involved, and we know that makes it all very, very serious.
When you cram pigs together, too many in such a small, cramped space. They breathe each others' air. The pigs defecate together, and stomp around in the mess. Filthy, disgusting animals. Sickly animals in the first place, they grow sicker when forced into unhealthy living conditions. Or should we call it unhealthy dying conditions?
But do not blame the pigs.
No, not the pigs, don't blame them. They do not choose this deal. They do not agree to the deal. They did not stomp their hooves down on the dotted line, making their mark, to satisfy the lusts of the flesh. Pigs, in general, do not enjoy torture, or even dying, for that matter. The spiffy slogan is that pigs, and chickens, hey, they do not mind. It is a great deal for them. Where would they be without us? Plus, we have always killed them, these ham sandwiches on stubby legs. Those pigs. Ug, those swine. But if they could express their desires and wishes, these pigs, what they would ultimately communicate to us would probably have very little to do with someday becoming food.
We cannot blame the pork producers, can we? They are just meeting a need. They cram all those animals into those tiny filthy spaces so that you can find that shiny package in your grocery store, the one that almost sparkles in its cleanliness. You lust for the flesh, that white meat, and the pork producers are doing their best to please you. It is a dirty business, a very filthy business, but somebody has to do it, don't they?
It is not surprising that when a world-wide pandemic bursts out of the snouts of swine, these producers of pork would stomp their shiny businessmen shoes, and demand that "the experts" should call it something else, not swine flu, as that is a misnomer, because calling it swine flu hurts the wallets of the pork producers. They are not apologizing for the pandemic, not the pork producers.
No apologies offered. They are pretty much demanding an apology. And pretty soon, they will want some compensation for their losses. And they want people to start eating pork, lots of it, and more. It is good for you, pork is, they promise, they swear, they cross their hearts and hope to die, and you need the vitamins that pork offers, and the antibiotics. You will receive more antibiotics from a plate of pork than in many visits to the doctor or pharmacist.
For years, almost since the beginning of time, society has blamed the prostitutes for another kind of fleshy lust, out there tempting the poor johns, and society has punished the prostitutes, fined them, made them pay their taxes on their wares. Lately, society has begun to recognize, in at least a small way, that perhaps there would be no prostitutes if there were no johns in the first place.
Perhaps there would be no pork producers if there were no hungry johns with ham on their breath?
We will not talk about it though, because it is negative, and it makes us feel...guilty? Yes, it makes us feel that way, that dark, anxiety-ridden throbbing in our guts, where the pig flesh dwells, where it burbles and coagulates, down in the dark, bubbling, and bloating, and rotting
We will not talk about the living, breathing test tubes, full of swine flu, coughing in each others' faces, slipping in the feces, vomiting, driven terrorized onto the slaughter room floor. These living test tubes, sharing their viruses, swallowing their daily antibiotics, receiving their swine flu shots. It is best not to discuss the living, breathing, coughing test tubes full of swine flu, because that just makes us feel funny, down deep, in the dark.
Pork, it is safe as food, and it is what is for dinner. It has nothing to do with swine flu, that h1n1 novel virus. We should not refer to this modern scourge as "swine flu," as powerful people have assured us of this truth, that pigs have nothing to do with it, this problem, and the problem really is quite mild and not such a problem, and pork producers have nothing to do with it. It is just nature, that's all, the strong eating the weak, the way it has always been done. And hey, let's face it, it just plain tastes good.
That is what counts, at the base line, right?
Just ignore the elephant. It is not really there. We walk around its imaginary space, its wide girth, because we have always done it this way. It means nothing. That elephant is all hype, and what is hype but hot air? Don't worry, be happy, and keep telling ourselves that: "We have nothing to do with it. We didn't bring this on ourselves. No, we just want to be happy. Comfortable. And eat what we want to eat, because it tastes good, and there is no consequence to our choices, there is no global warming, and God created oil so I can drive around in my big car."
Slogans. Happy slogans. Hype. The best way to dispel the guilt that lurks down deep in the guts, is to drag the elephant into the light and examine the pachyderm, feel its bumpy skin, discuss it, take its sinuous trunk in our hands, talk about it, yank on its tail, ask questions, duck our heads beneath its tusks, search for answers, feel its hot, fetid breath on our face and at the very least attempt to understand the issue that everyone is too afraid to discuss. And doesn't it have funny ears?
Cut the slogans. Focus on the truth. And begin to wonder how we can actually make a difference. Can we change the direction of our forward momentum toward gloom and doom, is the inertia too great already? The first step is to cut the slogans, and begin to focus on and speak the truth. Seek the truth. And speak it.
And seize that syringe out of that poor elephant's trunk. That is a very dangerous toy for any elephant. It is not a good toy for you, either.
