ANGRY PETA GIRL
I love animals. Probably because they boost my self-esteem and don’t judge me when I eat an entire cheese cake or watch porn. When things are going wrong, they show up at just the right time and make you feel smooshy inside.
Then there’s PETA. What a train wreck. I hate them for the same reasons I hate all extremist groups, which is because they think everyone in the world is wrong except themselves, and because their priorities are skewed by rage, and because they won’t LEAVE THE REST US THE FUCK ALONE! Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that they believe in a cause and have a purpose and all I believe in is getting the next TV and HBO series in the mail from Netflix (right now I believe deeply in The Shield).
The other night I had a PETA person in my bar, and not just one of those passive hippie-vegetarian-spread-the-love-and-live-green types either. She was more of the angry-at-the-world-because-cows-are-sold-at-McDonald’s-by-the-billions types, and because she felt animals in general were being humiliated, like dogs being used to help blind people get around. She is one of those people who can’t sit next to a person eating a slice of pepperoni pizza without being all judgy and making comments using the same tone as my mother-in-law.
BY THE WAY, SPEAKING OF ANIMALS, HERE IS ME WITH MY CAT NINJA, WHO ADOPTED US WHEN WE MOVED INTO OUR NEW PLACE LAST YEAR.
Even though I am partial to dogs, Ninja is some kind of serious awesomeness resting on a bed of kick ass. It’s not just her blackness that makes up her name. She catches like three gophers a day (which probably puts her at the top of PETA’s euthanization list) and can climb a telephone pole like a squirrel on crack. I want to give her a mini Samurai sword and some throwing stars just to see what she could do, but I’m afraid the CIA might show up at my door and tell me that they have an international incidence on our hands, and then they’d hold up a picture of Ninja and ask if I’d seen this cat recently.
Anywho, the way I found out this girl was from PETA was that a guy at the bar was getting ready to take a bite of his cheeseburger and Little Miss PETA said (while looking straight ahead, like a bad guy in a John Wayne movie), “Hope you like the taste of cruelty.” (And then she proceeded to tell me she was a member of PETA, which I guess is how I really found out.)
I could see this guy was perturbed about eating his burger so close to this nut case, so I provided some distraction by striking up a conversation and to fuck with her in general. The great thing about extremists is that they are so gung-ho about spreading their gospel and telling everyone how to live that they’ll ignore the hostility around them as long as they can assemble their soapbox and educate everyone on what horrible people they are. Here’s how our conversation went, approximately:
Me: Hey, I was thinking of joining PETA. What’s the criteria?
PETA: It’s simple. Love animals. Don’t eat them.
Me: I do love them. But I love to eat them too. Can I still join?
PETA: No, we don’t want people who eat meat, or do anything else to harm or disgrace animals. That makes you a hypocrite.
Me: Well I wouldn’t WEAR it or anything, like Lady Gaga, unless it was Halloween of course.
PETA: That’s the problem with the world, you don’t even know what a disgusting dickhead you are.
Me: What if I gave up everything except bacon? Because I love pigs but I’m not IN love with them. You know what I mean?
PETA: No, asshole! Don’t you get it? Animals are better creatures than us. Humans don’t deserve to be on the same planet as them. You can’t pick and choose which ones to slaughter, you evil prick.
Me: What about ostrich burgers. I heard those are super healthy.
PETA: It’s got nothing to do with health, dumbass. You’re killing a living creature!
Me: Yeah, but they’re really low in fat.
PETA: Christ your an idiot.
Me: My uncle got eaten by a cougar once, so shouldn’t I get like an exemption in this case. You know, like when we betrayed all the the Indians and stole their land 500 years ago and so now we let them have casinos and if you’re of Indian heritage you get to collect fat checks because your relatives were treated unfairly?
PETA: Your tiny-dicked uncle probably deserved it. I hope he bled a slow death.
Me: What about ants? Can I still squash ants? Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a giant who came to their planet where I wreck havoc on their little world.
PETA: Ants are better than you. They build entire colonies, dipshit! What do you do?
Me: I know they do. It’s AWESOME. I like to get a hose and stick it in their little hill hole thingy, and then turn the water on and yell, “FLOOOOOOOOD!”
PETA: Now you’re being an idiot. You’re making fun of me, right?
Me: I’m just curious how it works. Before I decide to join I want to know what I can and can’t do. Can I throw red paint on people?
PETA: I won’t stop you.
Me: Can I throw red paint on you?
PETA: What do you think?
Me: Can I hit a dog on the nose with a rolled up newspaper if he pees on my carpet?
PETA: Can I punch you in the nose for being a worthless piece of shit?
Me: What about spiders? Can I pull their legs off, because they really creep me out?
PETA: You are fucking ruthless!
Me: I am not. I’m completely ruth.
PETA: What?
Me: What?
PETA: You’re what? What did you say?
Me: What did I say? When?
PETA: You’re ruth?
Me: Yeah. I’m totally ruth.
PETA: What the hell does that mean?
Me: Well, ruthless is bad, so ruth has to be good, right? Kind of like being dicklesss is bad but having a dick is good. Unless you’re you, of course. It’s a word. Look it up.
PETA: It is not. I’m done here. Enjoy your bloody, slaughtered cows, assholes.
Me: Wait, come back tomorrow. We have goldfish races on Wednesdays. We totally won’t swallow them or anything. Anymore.
PETA: Fuck off!
Just for the record, my uncle wasn’t eaten by a cougar, I don’t really squash very many ants, and even if Ninja was delicious, I totally wouldn’t eat her. Probably.
Cheers, until next time.
The RB
