Be on the Right Side of History: Consider Your Meat

In this month's issue of Men's Journal, there is an article about going vegetarian. Gordon Ramsay decided to "give the vegan thing a try." Anthony Bourdain is still resistant to a plant-based diet, but with any luck, he'll accept my invitation to come to Crested Butte so that I can serve him a delicious vegan meal.

Regardless, the writing is on the wall: vegan eating is on the rise and will only continue.

Lest you react that the article I've just shared is from the UK, rest assured that the same is true in the United States. Forbes published a piece recommending that businesses embrace veganism and pointing out how it's already happening worldwide.

My favorite things: The Muppets

I've written about a number of people/characters that influenced my youth. The Big Three are David Bowie, Jo Polniaczek, and Miss Piggy.

The other night, my husband literally gave so few fucks about what we watched that he was willing to let me pick and to watch without question. I picked a movie I'd been wanting him to watch for a long time: The Great Muppet Caper.

The story is classic: Kermit and Fozzie play identical twins who, along with their friend photographer friend Gonzo, try to save their journalism careers by cracking the case of jewels stolen from Lady Holiday, a fashionista from London. Meanwhile, Piggy lands a job as a receptionist for Lady Holiday, and hilarity ensues when Kermit mistakes Piggy for Lady Holiday and Lady Holiday's (spoiler) criminal brother falls in love with Piggy. This is the Muppet movie that features the scene that I carried on my lunchbox for years.

It had been a while since I watched it, but I've watched it dozens of times, and I enjoyed it the other night just as much as I did when I first watched it in the goddamn theater.

And I especially enjoyed seeing my husband, who didn't have high expectations, thoroughly enjoy it. He didn't even nod off once. He'll say that what he liked best was watching me enjoy it, but it's definitely not just that.

It's this: The Muppets are fucking awesome.

Don't forget that the Muppets and Sesame Street are basically the same thing. It's the same producers and voices, and Kermit in particular crossed over. I had a crush on Bob (the first in a long line of friendly white guys, one of whom I married), and I appreciated Maria (one of few Latinas on television at the time). I liked Big Bird and Mr. Snuffalupagus. I wanted a sweet roll and I had a banana in my ear. And by golly, that motherfucking lollipop was following me.

I had outgrown Sesame Street by the time Elmo came around, but I never outgrew the Muppets. I was watching the Muppet Show at the same time that I was watching Sesame Street, but something kept the Muppets on my radar long after Sesame Street faded. To the extent that it did. I take pride in owning this album:

"Muppet fan" was not anywhere on my husband's list of things he either desired or was opposed to in a partner. He liked me, and "Muppet fan" came along with me. He understands that he is now part of the Muppet fan community, and he has reacted with only delight at all that entails.

The Muppets rule. Don't forget it.

Pictures of Sparkle

I'm having all the feelings right now as I hug my Sparkle, think about how she almost was killed before I adopted her, how many doggies there are who need loving homes like mine, how very very much I love her.

So I'm just going to post pictures of her.

My dog chews on the President-elect

I recall a news story that came out when I was in middle school or high school, during George Bush I's presidency. The news was that a group of protesters were burning George Bush in effigy. Why we say "burn in effigy" rather than "light cardboard cutouts on fire," I'm not sure. My father, no fan of Republicans, was horrified that anyone would burn the President of the United States in effigy. Though it's probably not something I would do/have done, I had no problem with people expressing themselves that way (but I'm not sure how effective it is).

Fast forward to the coinciding occurrences of the 2016 U.S. Presidential election and the addition to our family of Sparkle, the best dog ever.

I had noticed the Trump chew toy, for sale at Farfel's Farm in Boulder, long before we adopted Sparkle, and since then I'd wished I'd had a dog for whom I could buy it. It was one of her very first purchases.

If it's wrong to burn a President in effigy, surely it's wrong to use a President-elect's image as a doggie chew toy. If it's not wrong to burn a President in effigy, it may still be wrong to use said President-elect's image for a doggie chew toy. I use the word "wrong" very loosely; more "an affront of common mores" than "a serious moral transgression." If someone wants to publish these thoughts elsewhere, I'll edit it and come up with a more precise word. I also consider the President-elect to have equal status to a sitting President, ignoring the technicality that Mr. Trump does not officially become President-elect until the electors vote.

Is it wrong to burn a President in effigy?

I acknowledge that there's a certain amount of decorum that accompanies an office, both on the part of the person holding the office and on the parts of The People perceiving that person (with extra consideration of The People's perception if the person holding the office is in a representative position).

When George I was in office, my father's position was that, as a fairly elected government official, he was owed a certain amount of respect. Though he did not think that the President was above criticism, he perceived an indignity to immolation that crossed the line of acceptable criticism.

There is an implicit dehumanization in setting someone on fire. Its most famous uses involved punishment of people who were indeed considered nonhuman in one way or another, for example witches and heretics.

But burning in effigy is not immolation. It's burning a non-sentient artistic representation of an individual as a protest. Whether it's a protest of the person themselves or of a concept that the person represents is debatable, and the moral implications clearly would follow one's interpretation of same. I would consider it "wrong" if the burning was being conducted as advocacy for setting the represented individual on fire.

The worst thing about burning in effigy is that uncontained fire is almost never a good idea. Fire is dangerous, and if a person sets one in public, they ought to be subject to whatever general public safety laws are in effect.

Is it wrong to use a President's likeness as a doggie chew toy?

It is certainly reasonable for a person who finds burning a President in effigy beyond the pale to object equally to using a President's likeness as a doggie chew toy. Another defensible position is that burning in effigy is abhorrent but the chew toy is not because the indignity of the immolation is unique.

I am here to explore a third position: that the chew toy is actually worse than the burning in effigy.

An important question is whether there is a distinction between a regular Presidential stuffed toy (or bobblehead or action figure) and one that is designed specifically for the purpose of being chewed by a dog. One argument could be that dogs are low in the social hierarchy and therefore a dog's chew toy is even lower. I don't subscribe to this view; I value dogs as autonomous beings as much as humans.

Similarly, we often use dog in one way or another to mean yucky. If a movie is a "dog" it sucks; something from a restaurant is so bad that you wouldn't even feed it to your dog. I don't care for that vernacular, either, because dogs are awesome.

There is a distinction however between a toy that is designed to be loved and a toy that is designed to be destroyed. A doggie chew toy falls into the latter category, and I acknowledge there is a lack of respect reflected in specifically selecting an individual's image for joyous canine destruction.

So we're back to the question of whether President of the United States is an office that commands a certain amount of respect and decorum.

Fortunately, we don't have to answer that question in the abstract.

Is it wrong to use this President's likeness as a doggie chew toy?

"How would you feel if it were an Obama chew toy?" 

I suppose, if I disregard the false equivalency, I would ask how your dog plays with the chew toy. Sparkle and I play "get the bigot" with the Trump toy. I am completely comfortable calling President-elect Trump a bigot. I call him a "misogynist bigot" too. 

And this is where I realized I was drawing the proverbial line in the sand. I have decided that even if there is an amount of respect presumptively owed to our nation's elected leader, Mr. Trump's own behavior has destroyed his entitlement to the presumption. His lack of basic character, which I really don't need to rehash here, speaks for itself. And not only has he made no effort to redeem himself, he's only dug himself in deeper.

I do not believe that President Obama has done anything to earn the level of scorn that I have for Mr. Trump. It may be that we value different things. It may be that those things are or are not important enough to affect our opinions of each other.

The sequence of events was undoubtedly unprecedented, regardless of whether you think the outcome was positive or negative. The standards for acceptability, then, are a bit looser. If the man himself is not following traditional social mores, why on Earth should he expect to benefit from them?

Epilogue

We bought Sparkle's chew toy in liberal Boulder. Recently, in Colorado Springs, we saw a Bernie Sanders chew toy at a local pet boutique. Touché.

I Am Pro-Life

Image courtesy of Jonathan Fitch
at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

It might surprise many who know me well to find this out. I'm the last name that would come out of your mouth when asked who your "pro-life" friends are. But I am, and I'm here to set the record straight.

Meet the Gibbons

I am not feeling current events today. Since tomorrow is Super Tuesday, it feels like the calm before the storm. I didn't watch the Oscars; I've seen reviews many ways about Chris Rock's hosting. It's Leap Day, which has a fascinating history, but there's not much more to say about that.

So I'm going to tell you about my friend Burma and her husband and kids.

I was friends with Burma's husband, Caruso, before I got close to her. Caruso is a ladies' man who is particularly attracted to brunettes, so he warmed to me immediately when I started going to the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago regularly. Caruso had lots of girlfriends, and I didn't want to be one of those, so I never took pictures of him.

In January of 2011, Burma gave birth to Sai, her third son (her two oldest sons no longer lived at the zoo with their parents; they had families of their own in other zoos). At that time I went to the zoo every few months when I went to Chicago with Victor.

In fall 2012, I began going to law school at Northwestern University, living across the street from the zoo, and visiting the Gibbons at least weekly. Caruso would run right over to the glass when he saw me and spin around or squeak or otherwise acknowledge me.

One day my route required me to take my bicycle with me through the zoo rather than leaving it at one entrance. I wheeled it into the primate house and parked it near the entrance end of their enclosure. Caruso came over and greeted me, as usual. Burma was up in the faux tree. I waved to her. I'd been trying to get to know her better since I was there so regularly.

I noticed her looking from the tree down in the general direction of my bike. She inquisitively moved her head sideways and then forward. She was clearly curious. I wheeled it closer to her, and don't tell me I'm wrong when I say that she just wanted to take that thing and roll across the street to R.J. Grunt's to grab a cocktail.

After that, she and I became as close as Caruso and I already were, and sometimes even closer because Caruso can be fickle.

I suspected Burma was pregnant in early 2013. I spent that summer working in the clinic at my law school, so I was there often, throughout the summer. She looked a lumpy and tired and her envy of my bicycle became more wistful than aspirational.

My internship ended in early August and I eagerly returned to Colorado for the rest of the summer. When I returned about three weeks later to start school, Burma, Caruso, and Sai had a new family member.

All adult male gibbons are black and adult females are blond. Infant gibbons are all born blond so that they blend in with the mother and are therefore less vulnerable to predators. When they start moving around, they all turn black, then the males stay black and the females turn blond again. It's a trip to watch. I've only seen boy gibbons grow up so I've never seen the transition back to blond.

Daxin, the new baby, was a boy. it turned out. I got to watch him grow up as I went to law school. I spent at least one hour a week with the Gibbon family: mom Burma, dad Caruso, and children Sai and Dax.

My times away got longer as I spent summer of 2014 in Denver and then organized my schedule so I could take a long spring break back home. In May of 2015 I graduated and moved back to Colorado.

I've been back a couple of times and am excited to visit them in a couple of weeks when we're back in Chicago. Caruso may not remember me, but Burma will, especially if I bring my bike. I miss them. I wish they were on Facebook.

Please put children and animals in the overhead bin

I’ve seen some outrage over a story headlined with various incarnations of, “Boy removed from plane over allergies, passengers applaud.” The soundbite version of the story is that a seven-year-old boy, along with his mother and terminally ill, cancer-stricken father, were thrown off a plane because the boy was allergic to dogs. When he was thrown off, people clapped.

It’s a little more subtle than that, but those are the basic facts. I’m not sure the outrage is warranted; I’m actually impressed with the airline, from the perspective of an animal rights activist, for not automatically valuing the boy over the dogs.