Once I went to a buffet at the Golden Corral. One “thing” I put on my plate was an abused chicken thigh. It was so dry, so completely inedible, that I nearly became a vegetarian. “For me,” I thought, “This is simply horribly prepared food. At worst, merely disgusting. But for this poor chicken, it was destiny. It gave its pathetic little life to become this unsavory mass of dried-out protein. I had a bad entree, but this poor fucking bird died for this.”
But a rational thought rescued me from the abyss. If you celebrate the communion of consuming these ignorant beasts, you are treating them with the respect their simple lives deserve. Today’s duck got the full treatment: Deliberate ritualistic preparation with attention to detail and as much respect and love as a borderline normal cook can bestow on a simple canard. Her destiny was magnificent. It’s a shame she didn’t live to see that she was probably treated better in death than she was in life. Who among us could ask for more?
I named her “Gloria,” just now I did. No other duck in North Carolina, living or dead, got better treatment than Gloria did today. She was exquisite, a queen among ordinary ducks. There is a bit of token carnivore regret, of course, but we are given the teeth to chew the flesh of other animals and that is out destiny. Just chew with a little respect and mutual destiny will be attained. It was meant to be this way. Gloria is truly a Lucky Duckie. If ducks have an afterlife, she is looking down and saying "Not bad" as she dreams her way through eternity. Meanwhile, that pathetic Golden Corral chicken, after a life in shoebox cage, scratches his funky little head with the pea-sized brain and wonders, "What the fuck was that all about?" I don;t have an answer for him, but to Gloria I say "Nice job!"
12:49:00 AM 
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