Books, terrorists, and cupcakes.

Surely you guys are aware that Will Potter, of Green is the New Red fame, has recently published his first (excellent) book? And, duh, you’re going to go out and buy it and politely ask him to sign it when he comes to your town, right? You really should.

Last week, Red and I went to our friendly locally owned bookstore, Atomic, for the Baltimore launch of Green is the New Red and a discussion of that most lighthearted topic, the intimidation and prosecution of environmental and animal-rights activists as terrorists. A slavering threat to the American way of life, we are.* I had read most of the book while I was in Charlotte, so I felt a little like Hermione having done all her reading before even arriving at Hogwarts. Only not at all, because 1) I didn’t get to marry Ron Weasley** and 2) Will talked about plenty of things not in the book, and did it in a really engaging way, so I learned a lot. I am not even going to attempt to break down the Green Scare for you, because he does it so well in the book and over on his blog. It is terrifying to realize that nonviolent activists have been convicted of terrorism and secreted away in illegal prison units, while people who have actually committed murder are excused as “angry” or “misunderstood.” Go educate yourselves!

On hand to make sure that no one’s outrage went down without a spoonful of sugar was Tamara of Brunie’s Bakery, the genius whose desserts Red and I have enjoyed many times. Tamara seems to have made it her mission in life to never show up without baked goods. Therefore, I have decided to always bring Tupperware with me to any event where I think she might be, because she made (nay, forced!) us take extras home with us. I was out of my mind on a wicked sugar high by the time we left.

[Bad blogger note: I didn’t get any pics, but you can see some on Atomic’s photostream. In you’re ever in town, show them some love! John Waters does!]

Then Will signed my book and told me he liked my “What Kind of Asshole Eats a Lamb?” shirt. I always love hearing that, because I only have two AR shirts and that one’s my favorite. I hope he enjoyed his visit to Bmore, and I have no doubt that much radical consciousness was raised during his evening here.


*Actually, yeah, kind of. And that’s a good thing, as Martha might say.
**I’m sorry if that’s a spoiler for anyone, but the book’s been out for nearly four years. Do I need to tell you what happens in The Crying Game, too?

In which the Burnout proves she can be diplomatic.

Damn, y’all, I am straight-up proud of myself. Allow me to brag on my awesomeness and powers of diplomacy for a moment.

I had dinner at my parents’ place on Friday. Red was not there because I went straight from work, which is way closer to my parents than our house is, and he would have either had to drive himself or wait for me to drive all the way home so we could both drive up there together. It would have been mindless drama on a Friday evening when the Orioles had a home game, is what I’m saying. So I flew solo. My sister’s boyfriend’s dad and brother (do you need a flow chart yet?) were in town, so I was looking forward to meeting them. They asked polite questions about my veganism and were very interested in the details of vegan alcohol.

I’ll spare you the details of how a cookout turned into “Let’s just put everything under the broiler,” because it doesn’t really matter. I helped my mom make awesome veggie kebabs that were the envy of my flesh-munching tablemates. It was peaceful. I ignored the platter of carcasses. Somehow, the conversation turned to grocery stores. My sister mentioned that she had heard that Wegman’s had had some kind of negative PR regarding abused chickens. I was aware of it; it’s highly Google-able. Jaded bitch that I am, I wasn’t surprised, but I wasn’t going to get into it, either.

Her boyfriend’s dad spoke up. “Well, I don’t really see how they can be abused, if you’re going to kill them anyway.”

To quote The Dude, “This aggression will not STAND, man!” I didn’t sigh, but I wanted to. I leaned over, the better to see Mr. Sister’s Boyfriend’s Dad around the centerpiece of Mother’s Day roses, and said to him, “Ah, you know, you probably don’t want to have this conversation right now. Just saying.”

And, miraculously, that was it. That was motherloving it. He dropped it. I dropped it (not that I had started it, which bears repeating). Dinner continued. Dinner ended. I went home. I regaled Red with the story of my awesome display of tact. He was proud of me.

Don’t worry, beloveds. I’m still ready to fight someone. Just not, for the benefit of everyone involved, Mr. Sister’s Boyfriend’s Dad.

This time.

Yes, Red and I are totally Walter and The Dude.

On not getting tear-gassed at the Ed Block Courage Awards.

I had a busy day yesterday. I got myself decent-looking, put in my hours at work, dashed home, laced up my sexiest black combat boots, snarfed some food, kissed Red and Lucy, grabbed my bag, and drove out to Martin’s West to protest the Ed Block Foundation’s decision to give Michael Vick a Courage Award.

It was super fun!

Because I spent a few weeks wishy-washily engaging in the type of self-sabotage that even we activists can fall prey to, it took me a while to actually commit to going. It was gonna be cold. It was on a Tuesday. I couldn’t get there until 6 anyway, and it started at 4. I didn’t have anyone to go with. Vick was going to get the stupid award anyway. I didn’t want to get into fights with anyone. Red would be worried crazy. All of those things happened, except the fights, and it was 100% worth it. You can check out the Sun’s coverage here and here. Jill, my favorite pet blogger, was there taking notes and making friends with a beautiful pit bull puppy named Dawny Girl. Later, she actually found herself sharing an elevator with Vick! Ack! What would you do?

Dawny Girl was nervous in such a big crowd, but she soon warmed up and loved being loved on.

I chatted with people I knew from B-More Dog. Awesome ladies from the Humane League of Baltimore passed out leaflets and vegan cookies, which were delicious. Later, they handed out battery-operated candles for a mini-vigil. We got on really well and I look forward to hanging with them at future events. I’ve never been a leafletter, but who knows, maybe I’ll give it a try one of these days!

I didn’t have a sign, but lots of other people didn’t have them either. The people who did more than made up for us with beauties like these:

Pittie history lesson: Sergeant Stubby!

We got many supportive honks and cheers from passing motorists, and only a few hollers of “I love Mike Vick!” I made friends with a chef whose wife stayed home because she knew she wouldn't have been able to control her temper. During the protest, she sent him a video of their two pit bulls, Pork Chop and Mozzarella, shredding a Vick chew toy. A Philly delegation showed up, which was wonderful. These two badasses came all the way down from New York:

Their signs read, "Whose Dog Wants to Go #1 on #7?" and "Dog Fighting: How Men with Small Dicks Feel Macho."

They planned to catch a few hours’ sleep on a friend’s couch before heading home. One got into a friendly dispute about baseball with one of the cops working the event. Yankees fans—nothing for ‘em. Her friend, a Mets fan, seemed to know this well.

Programming note: The police ruled. I swear, these were some of the nicest cops I’ve ever met. They told me where to park and how to get back to the freeway. They accepted animal-abuse ribbons, even though they couldn’t wear them on duty. They joked with us and took care of a guy who got verbally abusive. Baltimore County, whatever you’re paying your officers, they deserve more.

Did we plant any seeds of compassion or change anyone’s mind? I have no idea. I do know that perhaps a hundred people came together with the goal of bearing witness to so many stolen lives and reminding others that even though our culture may reward cruelty, it doesn’t have to be that way. In that, I think we were successful.

Frustrating pit bull conversation #7,421.

Because I enjoy beating my head against the wall, I opened my mouth in defense of pitties the other day. You can guess what ensued.

Background: I’m Facebook friends with a young lady whom I used to babysit. (Newsflash, Burnout: You’re old.) Recently, she posted a link to a petition urging Congress to ban pit bulls (because we all know how well Facebook petitions work out). I knew she worked at a doggie daycare, so I was confused and commented to that effect. I don’t have the comment because she deleted it, but it was something like, “How can you want to ban pit bulls if you work at a doggie daycare? Come meet my pittie!”

The following conversation transpired. Because I’m a bitch and firmly believe that the younger generation isn’t being taught to write properly, all typos have been preserved. (No, I don’t capitalize on Facebook. Count yourselves lucky I capitalize here.)

Her: yea and one of the reasons i work there is because pitts are not aloud. no i dont blame the dogs i blame the people who bred them this way in the first place.

Me: yeah i know a lot of people feel that way. we get plenty of looks when we take lucy out. then they meet her and love her! since you love dogs i'd encourage you to check out best friends animal sanctuary (utah), bad rap (cali), and recycled love and bmore dog (both baltimore), all of whom work with abused pitties and advocate responsible dog ownership. after all, pitties aren't the first dogs to be demonized (german shephers, dobermans, rotties) and they won't be the last.

Her: ive met allot of pits, and yes some can be good but everyone has the potential to snap. and i dont like any breeds that are built and bred to protect, dogs are saposed to be mans freind. they shouldent be used for protection at all ever. and no i dont want to check out pit bull rescues.. i will never own a pit or would recomend a pit to any one. and if anyone wants to own one fine, but they should know that they will have to go threw allot. they wont be let into allot of places, certain vets, dogy daycares, apartments, dog parks, and there are allot of countys who have already banned them.

And with that, I went to snuggle my Lucy, possibly detouring to the kitchen for a fortifying glass of wine. Even though it was delivered by a less-than-articulate 20-year-old, the message that came through loud and clear was, “Your dog’s vicious. No one wants her around. She should be outlawed.” Hello, if I wanted this bullshit treatment I’d move to Denver. Red and I were well aware of the hoops we’d be made to jump through by choosing to live with a pit bull, and it has been 100% worth it, whether or not Lucy will be turned away from doggie daycare. I could spend my time dissecting her argument—dogs shouldn’t be bred for protection? Your doggie daycare welcomes German shepherds, doesn’t it?—but it should be obvious to anyone reading this that it’s full of holes and myths. Still, I can’t pretend I wasn’t discouraged to hear such breed discrimination from a so-called dog person.

Oh, and Camp Bow Wow? I’ve searched all over your site—including the local franchise site—and can’t find a single mention of bully breeds not being permitted. So either your employee is talking out of turn, or I call false advertising. The former would seem to be the case, as a link on your News page to Tracie Hotchner’s Dog Talk podcast #148, which aired on October 17, 2009, indicates that an earlier pit bull ban had been dropped and that all dogs would be evaluated as the individuals they are. What gives?

Photoshop says Lucy doesn't have flash-eye. It is wrong.

It's a happy Valentine's Day for these guys, indeed!

Thanks to the amazing efforts of people on and off the interwebs, Jodi and her husband Dan of This Is It! Creations were able to save the lives of the three bulls who graze on their land! They raised $3600 in two weeks, and now Pooka Cow, Spotty Friend, and Less Spotty Friend can look forward to long, wonderful lives grazing and mooing and doing cow stuff to their hearts' content. Blessings on everyone who helped save their lives—you truly helped give them the best Valentine's Day gift ever. Congratulations, Jodi and Dan! I can't wait to hear all about your adventures with the boys.

Save the bulls, save the world.

Okay, so maybe it doesn't have the same ring it does on Heroes. Still, if anything can save the world, it’s compassion, and these three handsome boys sure need some. Molly at It’s a Vegan Dog’s Life alerted me to the fundraising campaign over at This Is It! Creations, an eco-friendly shop full of lovely handmade items. The bulls graze on their land in Oregon, and their owner plans to send them to slaughter. He’s given Jodi and her husband until February 13^th—that’s this Saturday—to scrape together the $3600 he’s asking for them.

Their names are Pooka Cow, Spotty Friend, and Less Spotty Friend. They would like it very much if you'd help save them.

Obviously, that’s a lot of money, but how do you put a price on a life? This Is It! Creations is a member of Vegan Etsy, and several awesome shops are donating all or part of their sales through Saturday to saving these bulls. Jodi’s first post about the bulls is here, and a subsequent post lists all the Etsy shops joining the effort. They’re already halfway to having enough money, but they’ve only got three more days! This is a super way to stock up on presents for loved ones or yourself, especially with Valentine’s Day this weekend. I’ve been snowed in almost all week and my credit card is starting to feel it! Of course, you can donate directly too. Every little bit helps. Give the ultimate Valentine’s gift and have a heart for these guys. They’d give you sweet cow kisses if they could.

Ed Block Foundation issues statement, says nothing.

I know we’ve all been busy with the holidays and all, but sadly, animal cruelty and the support of same by the status quo never take a holiday. Recently I told you about Michael Vick’s controversial selection for the Ed Block Courage Award; then, I shared the letter I wrote to the Ed Block Courage Award Foundation expressing my consternation and the hope that they would question the decision of Vick’s team to reward his behavior. I know I’m not the only one who’s been waiting to see what the Foundation’s response would be.

I wanted to be happy when they finally issued a statement. Then, I read it. It’s short, so I’ll reproduce it for you here:

Since its inception in 1978, the Ed Block Courage Award has been presented to NFL players that were selected solely by their teammates. The Ed Block Courage Award Foundation cherishes its relationships with the NFL and each NFL Team. This year the Philadelphia Eagles selected Michael Vick as their 2009 Recipient. Our Foundation has a great deal of respect for the Philadelphia Eagles organization, Head Coach Andy Reid and the Eagles Players. Michael Vick is just one of 32 NFL players that will receive an Ed Block Courage Award for 2009. The focus of the Foundation is and always has been to raise awareness and prevention of child abuse and we are proud to add 32 new Ambassadors of Courage along side of us in our journey to break the cycle of child abuse and reach our goal of a Courage House in every NFL City.

FOR REAL. That’s the best you can do, Ed Block Courage Award Foundation? Did you let an intern write that? Was your PR person on vacation? After all the calls and letters and emails I know you’ve received, this half-assed “But we’re doing it for the chiiiiiiilllldren” is all you can muster?

Whatever I was expecting—and I try not to expect too much in situations like these—clearly I set the bar too high. Thanks for encouraging Baltimore’s downward spiral, Ed Block Courage Award Foundation.

Tattoo video!

Shame on me for not hunting for it sooner, but I've finally found the video shot by the Towson University (go Tigers!) TV station during the Rescue Ink tattoo-fest in October. In my defense, the reporter, Valerie Bragg, did say she would email me when it was edited and ready to air. No matter: she blogged about the day here. Video follows the story, for those who want to see me half-naked and getting inked with Lucy's pawprint. Or, you know, see me talk about the importance of animal rights and making a public commitment to compassion.

Putting my English degree to good use.

Since the Ed Block Courage Award Foundation is holding a press conference today here in Baltimore to announce the recipients of this year's Courage Award, I thought I'd post the letter I sent to their CEO and manager.

Dear _______:

As an animal-rights activist and caretaker of a rescued pit bull, I’m writing to express my dismay at the decision of the Philadelphia Eagles to honor Michael Vick with the Ed Block Courage Award. While I understand that the Ed Block Courage Award Foundation has nothing to do with the selection of recipients, I urge you to question Mr. Vick’s merit for this honor.

I don’t need to remind you of Mr. Vick’s history of dogfighting and subsequent incarceration. I acknowledge that he has served his time and complied with the terms of his parole, yet I have seen no indication that he regrets his past cruelty and truly wishes to make a difference. During his appearances with the Humane Society of the United States, he has expressed remorse, but for getting caught, not for mistreating and murdering the dogs in his care. His hubris in suggesting that he has “overcome a lot, more than probably one single individual can handle or bear,” and that “nobody had to endure what [he has] been through” bespeaks someone who has not yet taken responsibility for his actions, let alone shown the courage befitting a Courage Award recipient. If, as your website states, a deserving player “symbolizes professionalism, great strength and dedication” and “is also a community role model,” then Mr. Vick is a staggeringly poor choice. How can he be “an Ambassador of Courage for victims of abuse, violence and neglect,” when he committed these same crimes against similarly vulnerable beings, the only difference being that they weren’t human? His selection cheapens the Ed Block Courage Award and makes a mockery of the virtues extolled by your organization.

I applaud the work of the Ed Block Courage Award Foundation and will be following the award process with interest. As Ed Block himself said, “Compassion is the noble way of life, a great guide for the truly noble of heart.” I encourage you to continue your compassionate work on behalf of victims of child abuse, but also to extend that compassion to other abused beings and to realize that we are all interconnected.

Sincerely,
Vegan Burnout

Make no mistake, the Block Foundation has already gotten an earful and is trying to distance itself from the clusterfuck. At a meeting called to discuss the outcry that the Eagles’ selection of Vick generated, a board member admitted to being “surprised” and “taken aback,” adding that “[w]e are innocent in all of this.” I know that, but I expect the Block Foundation to step up and do something about it. They may have never had reason to reconsider a team’s chosen recipient before, but there’s a first time for everything. They hold the purse strings, so if they decide that Vick isn’t deserving of their award, they don’t have to give it to him. As Red would say (oh! He's blogging again!), it’s a basic application of the Golden Rule: Those who have the gold make the rules.

Badass blog alert!

Stephanie of Change.org is now Stephanie Formerly of Change.org. This saddened me for about half a minute, because her Change.org posts really galvanized me to explore my veganism in a broader sense and eventually launch this here blog. Then I realized that she has started her own superblog with some of my other favorite bloggers! It’s a happy day for mouthy vegans everywhere!

Animal Rights & AntiOppression (which Microsoft Word ironically wants to change to “Ant Oppression”) promises to be a large creative space where crazy lefty thinking can bubble over and infuriate those who still believe that animals are ours to use however we like. I’m especially thrilled by the broader focus on other oppressions as well—everything is interconnected! I think that animal rights advocates sometimes feels constrained because there’s not always room for them in other activist clubhouses, even though they may share overlapping goals. For example, I’d feel uncomfortable going to a feminist meeting where meat and cheese were served, because female animals are brutalized and exploited for their bodies and secretions. Try and unpack that, though, and you get chastised for even daring to compare women and animals, or suggesting that advocating for the rights of one does not require trampling the dignity of the other. (There is an interesting post about this on, I think, Feministing, and it led to quite the lengthy comment string, but damn if I haven’t just spent the last half-hour trying to find it.) The same goes for suggesting to environmentalists that eating fewer animal products (or none at all) would go a long way towards solving our energy and climate crises. Al Gore, sack up and go vegan already!

Ahem. So, yes, I am very excited about Animal Rights & AntiOppression. Blog long and prosper, Stephanie and Co.!

Mr. Spock is excited, too.

Walking the line.

Just to be clear, I do not intend to make this an abolitionism vs. welfarism debate. I think that dichotomy often needlessly divides the animal-activist community, which is made up of so many wonderful and dedicated people who all have intense passions and many different areas of focus. (Google will take you straight to all the infighting.) As far as I’m concerned, every step forward is in the right direction. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to help pay for each of them.

Last week, I received a Facebook invitation to a fundraiser for Maryland Votes for Animals, a newish political action committee. I was psyched, because it was being held at a just-opened vegan café, Emily’s, and Dan Piraro would be there. Action for animals, yummy food, and guaranteed vegan hilarity—what more could I ask for?

As it turns out, a stronger message. While excitedly telling Red about this party, I realized that I hadn’t really checked out Maryland Votes for Animals. I was pretty sure they weren’t going to promote killing kittens, but I’m not made of money, so I thought it best to see what the goals of this PAC were. (I already had apocalyptic visions of my contribution helping wine and dine high-powered members of our state government.)

I learned something about myself as well as about MVFA: I’m only comfortable financially supporting animal-advocacy groups that take an abolitionist stance. If anyone’s just joining the party, this means that the ultimate goal is animal liberation: They’re not ours to eat, enslave, experiment on, use for entertainment, or anything else. MVFA takes a welfarist position, meaning that they advocate for the humane treatment of animals, but still see nothing wrong with using them for human purposes and desires. (Think “happy meat.”) Under their Farm Animal Issues section, they state the following: “We produce food on an industrial scale, [sic] that means farm animals too. Does that fact that an animal is being raise [sic] for slaughter mean that it can be raised by torture?”

Umm…I don’t want animals to be either tortured or slaughtered? I can has vegan?

I was also discouraged by the number of “link coming soon” messages next to issue topics. If you’re gonna launch an animal-welfare site encouraging people to join and donate, don’t you think you should post your positions on the issues first? Then, I searched “vegan” just to make sure I wasn’t discriminating against a less-than-professional website with grammatical errors. You guessed it: zero hits.

So, that’s how MVFA lost me. Again, I applaud the work of any group that organizes for the benefit of animals. I realize that not all these groups will be my cup o’ java, and that not all of them will promote veganism as a way to lessen animal suffering. But damn, I was hoping that MVFA would.

I wish you luck, MVFA, and I’m sorry I can’t stand with you.

Copyright Dan Piraro. Lousy crop job by me and Photoshop.

Manic Monday.

There will be a Thanksgiving with the Turkeys post, I promise. Once Red has the photos uploaded, I’ll give you a snout-by-snout rundown of the animal-loving awesomeness that thrives at Poplar Spring. It’s worth the wait! In the meantime, enjoy this picture of Opal, one of Poplar Spring’s turkey residents:

Photo by Deb Durant of Invisible Voices.

Vegan Drinks was hella fun. To our surprise, it was not as vegan as we thought it would be. We spent the evening chatting with an omni and her vegetarian partner, as well as a vegan whose omni husband had begged off, fearing persecution. The soy White Russians were dangerously tasty—more than one and we would have been cabbing it home (and that’s a $50 ride at least). Good vodka makes all the difference, people! The vegan Bailey’s was also good. I got hints of coconut, so I wonder if they used coconut milk or creamer or something. Either way. Yum. I would have enjoyed meeting more people, but we were in a loungey basement-esque area, which made working the room tough. It was a plus, though, because Paul (the organizer) is looking for a larger space to host the next happy hour. Baltimore vegans, unite!

The New York Times won back a tiny bit of my heart by running an op-ed by Gary Steiner, a philosopher and professor at Bucknell. While he’s already gotten flack for coming off as grouchy and portraying veganism as a huge pain in the ass, I appreciate that he doesn’t try to placate the happy-meat crowd (ahem, Jonathan Safran Foer). “You just haven’t lived until you’ve tried to function as a strict vegan in a meat-crazed society,” he writes, and it’s true. It’s not always true—sometimes I find it very easy, and other times I just want to throw up my hands and say, “Yes! Please! Feed me a salad! Leaves! Twigs! Anything!”—but it’s refreshing to hear it put so bluntly. His approach might not make instant converts of anyone, but I’m glad it’s out there.

Red and I are pleased to report that Go Max Go’s Twilight bar is a worthy successor to the misbegotten Milky Way! We split it, and Red declared that half the bar was all he needed to feel satisfied. His opinion probably means more than mine, as he is a connoisseur of the American candy bar. I didn’t grill him on the full range of his Twilight experience (note: I’m obviously trying to up my Google ranking with Twilight fangirls), but the rice milk chocolate must have done the job or he would have let me know. Carry on, Go Max Go. We’ve got your other three flavors to try, and if you’d like us to test any products you may have in beta, we’re all yours.

Photo ripped from Go Max Go.

Why I’m sad this week.

I’ve been in a funk lately. I think that, while there’s certainly not more cruelty than usual, I’m hearing more about it, or it’s affecting me more deeply, or I’m just going off the deep end.

You may have heard about Oreo. She was an abused pittie girl whom the ASPCA nursed back to health after she was thrown from a sixth-floor roof this summer. When she demonstrated aggression that didn’t abate after several months, they put her down on Friday despite a massive public outcry and a sanctuary willing to give her a permanent home. I emailed Ed Sayres, President of the ASPCA, asking him to reconsider and give Oreo to Pets Alive so she could have a chance at a happy life. I know that thousands of other people also emailed and called and blogged and tweeted and mobilized their resources to save Oreo. I frantically monitored Pets Alive’s Twitter feed, hoping for a definitive answer until word came that she had been put down. That a dog who had never known safety or comfort was killed by the very people who had promised to advocate for her saddens me so deeply.

• Animal Rights @ Change.org: On Oreo, Mabel, and Killing Abused Animals
• Pets Alive’s Oreo page (links to a comprehensive list of articles, blog posts, and news alerts)

Oreo during her recovery. ASPCA photo.

Mercy for Animals keeps tearing it up on the undercover front, and I’m so grateful for their work. You might remember their hatchery video. This time, they infiltrated a so-called family farm that raises pigs for slaughter. No new atrocities were brought to light, but that’s the most telling part: These things happen every day, in huge feedlot operations and on the small, cozy “family farms” that aim to make us feel better about the animals killed for food. I haven’t watched the video, so I may be a hypocrite in suggesting that you do. I did, however, read excerpts from the investigator’s journal:

“There was another dying pig lying in the hall today, gasping for air. My coworkers stepped around him and went into a room to continue working. When we finished and went back into the hall, a worker kicked the dying pig hard in the chest, and he flew back into the wall, leaving a trail of blood from his mouth. He continued to breathe as the workers walked away.”

“I saw firsthand how clever and empathic pigs can be. A sow and her entire litter had escaped their crate and gathered in the hallway. I examined how they'd escaped and discovered that the sow had loosened steel pegs in two different places. I told a co-worker this story and she said that when a sow figures out how to unlock her crate, she often goes around unlocking all of the other crates as well.”

“The gas cart was filled to the brim with pigs today, a total of 39, including 9 large pigs that were at weaning age. They were left in the cart all day to trample each other, before being gassed all at once.”

Now, you know how much I love my dog. Lucy is crazy-ass smart, so smart that sometimes I think she’s just waiting for us to leave, convinced in our silly human way that she’s just going to curl up and nap on her futon, so that she can concoct elaborate plans for world domination. She’s got nothing on a pig. They’re smarter than dogs and arguably cleaner (I doubt they lick their own butts). Hell, they’re smarter than three-year-old children. They can learn to play simple video games. They love to be scratched and petted. They’re not bacon receptacles just waiting for you to get hungry.

• Animal Rights @ Change.org: Undercover at the Pig Farm: This is Where “Bacon” Comes From
• The Discerning Brute: Bacon Bumption & The Pork Industry Shocker

Harry and Bobby are best friends and live at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary.

And then there was this. That, my pretties, is a HuffPo video of a deep-fried fish being eaten while he is still alive. I have not watched it. Braver people than I on the PPK have, but the thought of it makes my eyes close and my stomach hurt. The knowledge that this sort of base cruelty exists and is being distributed as entertainment just…I just ache. That’s all.

On a happier note, Red and I will be attending Vegan Drinks tomorrow, and Poplar Spring’s Thanksgiving with the Turkeys on Saturday. If there’s anything I need after all this misery, it’s good vegan alcohol, then snuggles with a chicken or sheep or a few dozen. In case you’re too lazy to clink on that first link, Baltimorons, there will be vegan Bailey’s. And soy White Russians. The Dude abides.

Thankfully, he does. Photo ripped from TFC Journal, who ripped it from somewhere else.

Dead Bird Day.

This is not intended as a bitter vegan rant. It may end up that way, of course, but I come in peace. Sort of.

It’s three weeks until Thanksgiving. I am not excited about this. I haven’t been excited about it for a long time. This morning, I’ve been thinking about my awkwardly-spent youth and my love of erstwhile alternative radio station WHFS. (A moment of silence, please, Baltimorons.) HFS had a DJ—Kathryn Lauren, I think—who was a vegetarian. She staunchly referred to Thanksgiving as “Dead Bird Day,” I’m sure in spite of plenty of ribbing from her co-hosts. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but clearly it’s stayed with me. Maybe the image of a popular vegetarian (perhaps she was even vegan) DJ who wasn’t afraid to trumpet her convictions over the airwaves resonated with something nascent deep inside me. So, thanks, Kathryn.

I can’t muster any enthusiasm for Thanksgiving, a holiday that isn’t really a holiday. What are we celebrating, exactly? Another creation myth that serves the interests of the conqueror while glossing over the treatment of the conquered. Yawn. As Twisty at I Blame the Patriarchy describes it, “Like all holidays, it is riddled with horrors. Smallpox blankets. The spurious Squanto mythology. Genocide. The expectation that one manifest a hearty, convivial mood in the bosom of the fam despite the fact that the whole binge is (a) quasi-godbagious, (b) a shitload of extra work for the womenfolk, and (c) poultry-based.” Um, yeah. That’s pretty much how I feel about the whole thing. And why I love Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary’s Thanksgiving WITH the Turkeys so, so very much.

Before you wrestle me to the ground and gag me with Tofurky, I’m not precisely dreading Thanksgiving. I love my family and I appreciate the two days off work. (Actually, I have a third, non-consensual day off this year. To whoever invented the concept of furlough days, you can join the state of Maine in kissing my ass.) I enjoy Thanksgiving and other family-centric holidays far more than I used to now that we’ve downsized them. Before, every holiday was spent with The Entire Family in an overwhelming spectacle of…something. So many aunts and uncles and cousins and current lovers and out-of-towners and hangers-on. In college, I started spending the entire evening—Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, you name it—getting as surreptitiously drunk as possible to avoid thorny social interactions. My logic was that if all my energy was directed towards acting sober, I wouldn’t have any left to start fights with my conservative relatives. It worked quite well, but left me soggy and depressed.

Recently, holidays have tended towards the more private. My family is doing more solo, which is a blessed relief. Now I have Red’s clan to deal with, and he has mine, but we stick together. Celebration-hopping is not an ideal solution—who do we have dinner with? what about dessert? do I even care since I’m bringing my own food anyway?—but it’s manageable. I am not eagerly anticipating the traffic and the attempted force-feeding that seems inevitable, but those are annoyances I can deal with. Regardless of how small the celebration, though, the sight of a dead turkey in the middle of the table, carved open and parceled out, distresses me. I’ve met turkeys: they’re sensitive and intelligent. Mother turkeys gather their chicks under their wings before settling down for the night and guard them fiercely. Benjamin Franklin lobbied for the wild turkey to be the national bird! The whole orgy of food seems wrong, in a country that has 5% of the world’s population yet uses 25% of its resources. And to celebrate animal murder, then add insult to injury by saying a prayer of thanks over its violated corpse, is unconscionable to me.

This, by the way, is why I never gain weight during the holidays.

Photo of Toulouse and her turkey friend courtesy of The Gentle Barn via United Poultry Concerns.

Baltimore gets Rescue Inked!

So, um, apparently this weekend was all about climate change actions. I had no idea, because my weekend was filled with burly men, tattoos, and pit bulls. In short, my weekend rocked.

As I told you here, New York-based animal rescue group Rescue Ink responded to our call (via a tattoo pledge) to bring their brand of in-your-face activism to Baltimore. This weekend, it happened. On Saturday, the Baltimore Tattoo Museum donated their time and services to ink everyone who wanted a pawprint tattoo. For $100 (split between Rescue Ink and the Baltimore Humane Society), each person chose either a pre-drawn dog or cat print. Red and I got there early, expecting a crowd. We weren’t the first in line, but we definitely made a good call in not sleeping in that morning. Because I’m difficult and had been planning to get Lucy’s pawprint for a while, I made the donation, then paid for my artist, Laura Rachel, to tattoo me with the print I made of Lu’s foot. Laura is a crazy-talented tattoo artist with an amazing spirit. After she tattooed me last year, I knew I’d be going back to her again. She was a great sport, letting a camera crew from a local university film us while she worked. It was the most badass fundraiser ever, I tell you! My parents even came to support us!

And did I mention how beautiful my new tattoo is? It truly looks like Lucy stepped in ink and then jumped on me. Oh, my sweet girl. She’s with me forever now. I can’t explain how happy I am to have been a part of this amazing day. Who says activism can’t be fun?!

On Sunday, Red and I headed to the Baltimore Humane Society for Pit Bull Awareness Day. The incredible people behind B-More Dog, a newer pit bull-advocacy group, put on a great program filled with pittie agility and drug-sniffing demonstrations, information sessions, and plenty of wonderful adoptable dogs to meet. Oh, and Rescue Ink showed up, too. They’d taken the train down from New York the night before, and after bemoaning Baltimore’s lack of nightlife (sorry, fellas), they graciously talked with everyone and posed for pictures. They signed my copy of their book, too, and complimented both my new tattoo and Lucy’s photos. It was a little weird pulling up my shirt in public for a bunch of strange dudes, but what the hell, it was for the pitties. They told us how bummed they were that they couldn’t make it for the tattoo fest, but they’d had a prior commitment. Oh, well. Next time, guys! We had a great crowd, too—enough people to generate a lot of positive energy and raise plenty of money, but not so many as to make the whole thing feel like a circus. Today, the guys are going to stick around and help with active animal-abuse cases and do a presentation at a local school before heading back home. As always, Jill at Unleashed is on top of it.

Johnny O, Joe Panz, Red, me, Big Ant, Batso, and Junior. Eric and G are off to the left somewhere.

I’ve been so overwhelmed with love all weekend. A lot of positive momentum was created, and I’m hopeful that all the dog advocates and responsible pit bull owners in Baltimore will continue to show the rest of the world that our dogs aren’t snarling monsters waiting to maul your toddler or have your kitten for dinner. If anyone has any doubts about that, Lucy will lick them silly. And, to quote Mr. T, I pity the fool who crosses Rescue Ink!

Everybody needs to eat lunch.

This is a story about the time my coworkers ate a vegan lunch. I busted my ass making it for them, so you better enjoy this.

At my last job, my team members frequently went out for lunch. I didn’t, because I’m cheap and my lunch options were basically limited to the Whole Foods across the street. The Whole Foods tempted me, though. Anyway, one day they came up with the bright idea to make lunch for each other. Each person would bring lunch for everyone else, one day a week. It sounded just as expensive to me; besides, why would you let someone else decide what you’re going to eat for lunch? I played along, because even though I knew I wouldn’t be getting much out of the deal, I wanted to surprise them all with a vegan feast.

They were more accommodating than I had expected, actually. I had a lovely Greek salad one day (the girl’s boyfriend worked at his family’s diner). Another day, I think I got some green beans to supplement whatever I had brought. The green bean dude was kind enough to ask in advance if they would still be vegan if cooked with the pot roast and then removed before serving. When I told him no, he was skeptical about the potential of green beans to taste good plain, but he gave it a shot anyway.

In the days leading up to my turn, everyone wanted to weigh in on the mysterious vegan lunch. Despite the fact that they regularly exclaimed over how good my food smelled, they were cautious. No tofu. No nuts (squeamishness, not risk of anaphylactic shock). I tried to nip it in the bud, but my goddess, they were picky. I refused to tell them what I was bringing. I was dead-set against bringing a lame pot of spaghetti or massive salad, but agonized over what I could possibly make that they would eat.

The night before, I cooked like a madwoman. It was going be delicious, and they were going to like it. I vowed that my presentation would be as good as it could be when cubicles and plastic containers were involved. Damn if they weren’t going to eagerly await lunchtime. Their first vegan meal was going to rock their faces off.

I was usually the first person in the office, so I took advantage of the extra time to create a menu. When they arrived and checked their email, this greeted them:

Subject: Vegan Gourmet

Good morning, dearly beloveds!

Submitted for your gustatory approval today:

Chickpeas Romesco: chickpeas (garbanzo beans) simmered with fire-roasted tomatoes and red and green peppers
Saffron-Garlic Quinoa: like rice, only better!
Almond-Anise Biscotti: delicious with everything from cappuccino to herbal tea

Enjoy! All recipes are from the Veganomicon by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero.

Yours in animal-friendly deliciousness,
v.b. :)

I may have even made little labels for each dish; I can’t remember. My boss, a staunch tofu opponent who delighted in good-naturedly ribbing me, admitted that I’d outdone myself. I went with quinoa instead of rice in order to expand their horizons a little, and also to dispel the protein myth. I did include nuts, because 1) there were only a few of them and 2) if I make you food, you don’t get to dictate every detail. It was also one of my first attempts at biscotti, and I was stoked at how fabulously easy and biscotti-esque they were. Goodbye, $4 café ripoff! Hello, awesome homemade biscotti!

My coworkers were floored. Chickpeas? Quinoa? Whaaaaa? But they gamely tried everything, and even the two who ended up getting salads from Whole Foods said they were glad they’d finally experienced vegan food. The next day, another exclaimed loudly over the, ah, miracle the chickpeas had worked on her GI tract. It was a strange, yet tender moment.

The moral of the story? I don’t know—I’m a badass cook? Veganomicon has the power to convert the infidel? They were all appreciative, didn’t leave work hungry, and learned a little about my choice to be vegan. As Vegan MoFo swirls around us in a haze of intoxicating photos and recipes, let us remember that pulling out all the stops for a hardcore omni audience (one girl ate pigs’ feet, for Christ’s sake) and feeding them silly may eventually result in a first step towards a kinder life.

That, and pass the biscotti.

Quick but awesome roundup.

There will be a Vegan MoFo post later, rest assured. But right now, I want to call your attention to a few things:

• Today is Blog Action Day for Climate Change. Don’t want to drown in a hella storm or explain to your kids why there’s no ozone layer left? Ditch the animal products and go vegan. Then you can think about buying that Prius, because animal agriculture contributes more greenhouse gases than driving. ETA: Read Stephanie's incredibly informative Change.org post here.
• Carol J. Adams rocks my world. I want her to be my vegan feminist godmother. Read Mark Hawthorne’s interview with her here, then get yourself one of her books. The Pornography of Meat is on its way to me via Amazon, and I have been doing the dance of the nerdly all week.
• In less awesome news, Will over at Green is the New Red reports that the terrorism convictions against the SHAC 7 have been upheld. Basically, what this means is that, in his words, “Supporting and facilitating non-violent civil disobedience is not protected speech.” This is a huge loss to activists of all kinds, but animal-rights activists seem to really be feeling the injustice of the current “Let’s just call it terrorism and freak everyone out” mentality. It’s a crazy involved case, but Will breaks it down so non-law types like me can understand it.
• Rescue Ink is coming to Baltimore! Last month, I told you about the grassroots effort to encourage the guys to visit for a massive tattoo party. Well, it worked, and they’ll be here next weekend for a tattoo-in and outreach. The Baltimore Tattoo Museum, my ink parlor of choice, has graciously donated their artistry and services, and the Baltimore Humane Society has been instrumental in making this happen. It’s incredible that this has all come together in just about a month. I’m on a total activist high right now, you better believe it! We don’t have a lot of details yet, but I’ll post again when I know more. Hopefully Lucy sits still so I can make a print of her paw!

World Farm Animals Day.

By the way, it's World Farm Animals Day. Did you know that? No? Well, go check it out. Learn all about the awesomeness of farm animals and why they should not be dinner. Did you know that pigs are smarter than 3-year-old kids? Actually, you may have, because that's a pretty oft-cited statistic. Mama hens cluck to their chicks before they're hatched, and the chicks peep back! How cute is that? Cows are sensitive and awesome in every way, and suffer terribly when their calves are taken from them. And do I really need to educate you about veal? Do I?

I can't wait until November 21, so we can drive down to Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary for their annual (I just mistakenly typed "animal") Thanksgiving with the Turkeys. Poplar Spring is amazing and I made dozens of new animal friends last year. I felt so healthy and peaceful after we left. All animals should have such safe, happy lives as those who live at Poplar Spring.

So, if you're having someone for dinner tonight, make sure it's someone who can give permission first. *nudgewinknudge*

I love Highland cattle. They just look so friendly. Photo ripped from Wikimedia Commons.

Vegan MoFo is coming!

Yesterday I discovered the campaign for world domination that is Vegan MoFo—or Vegan Month of Food, if you’re not into the whole brevity thing. This is like triple the fun for me: veganism, food, and a built-in blog schedule! Whoooo!

Actually, this is Vegan MoFo III, but I didn’t know about I and II. What I do know is that I am psyched to blog about food (and booze, who are we kidding) in all its delicious vegan forms for all of October. Well, all of October’s weekdays, that is. Weekends are for sleeping. And new recipes. I’m even going to attempt to jump into the discussion on the PPK—I’ve resisted because I know what a giant addiction it will become, but hey, that’s where all the vegan goodness is going down.

Buckle up, because tomorrow Vegan MoFo is coming for you! You better be hungry!

Rescue (Ink) me….

As the lolcats would say, “I has a big mouf?” Sometimes it gets me into trouble.

In this current instance, it hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. See, my gal Jill, the pet blogger over at our local rag (ahem, esteemed and historically significant paper of record), started a contest for the best idea to get the burly, animal-loving guys of Rescue Ink to make an appearance here in Baltimore. (Full disclosure: Turns out they were here several months ago to honor the police officer who tried to save Phoenix, a pitbull girl who had been doused in lighter fluid and set on fire. Their visit was very low-key, so most people didn’t know about it, including me.) I’ve wanted a tattoo of Lucy’s pawprint for a while, so I threw that out as my idea, inviting the guys to come to town for a tattoo date. I was hoping to win a copy of their book.

“Are you really getting a tattoo of Lucy's pawprint?” Jill asked. “You HAVE to send some pictures!” I was (and am) totally serious. Serious in a fun way, that is. If going under the needle to get my sweet girl’s paw etched into my skin will garner some publicity for Baltimore’s animal-cruelty problem, I’m there. I thought it was a good idea.

So, apparently, do Jill’s other readers. Someone else offered to get inked as well. Then someone else. Over the last three days, more than 80 animal lovers have pledged to get pawprint tattoos if (when!) Rescue Ink makes an appearance in our fair(ish) city. At this, I was floored, as I imagine Jill was as she tried to keep track of the tattoo promises pouring in. I nearly passed out when she told me she was doing an actual story (with ink! on paper!) about the tattoo pledges. She called me, I tried to sound coherent as I gave her a quote, and voila, there it is on the back page of today’s Movies (?!) section. Read it!


We’re starting something here! The energy is palpable, even through the wires and tubes and magic and whatever else makes the Internet work. I’m sure Rescue Ink is busy, what with their show premiering tonight and cluing us in on their animal-rescuing, abuser-scaring adventures, but I have a tiny inkling that we might be able to pull it off. I’m thrilled I won the book (thanks, Jill!) and I want to do what I can to make sure the guys get here to autograph it personally, but it goes deeper than that. This is about my Lucy, who was thisclose to being thrown into a fighting pit and/or forced to have puppies until she could no longer walk. It’s about Phoenix, whose picture is taped to my computer and moves me to tears. It’s about the feral cats I fed last fall and winter, and the dog who trotted past us one morning but disappeared before I could grab him. The guys of Rescue Ink know what so many need to learn: that it takes real strength to show kindness and mercy to beings that are weaker than you, and to fight for their protection.

Read, watch, and repeat. And get inked, if you dare!

Photo of Phoenix courtesy of The Sun.