Potluck, or Guess Who Else is Coming to Dinner

Potluck, or Guess Who Else is Coming to Dinner

What’s not to like about potlucks?

Many of my SAD (Standard American Diet) friends seem to have trouble understanding why some of my CAD (Compassion Affirming Diet) friends sometimes shy away from full participation in potluck functions.

Most CAD people that I know love to eat. Typically we very much appreciate the preparation, presentation, arrangement, color-play, aroma, texture, flavor etc. of a good meal, we even find it fulfilling to contemplate where all of the ingredients came from; the apples in the cobbler starting from a seed, growing into a tree, the tree sprouting fragrant blossoms, blossoms giving way to tiny sour apples, the growing apples drawing nutrients up through the structure of the tree, while swinging in the breeze, basking in the sun and bathing in the rain.

We think about, and give thanks for the nature-given orbs getting juicier and sweeter everyday until their weight demands picking. We are generally delighted at the beauty; aroma, color array and creativity displayed, and appreciate the care and laboring of love that brings such healthful layouts to the party.

The friendly, generous and well-meaning SAD folks in attendance generally offer a distinctly different type of presentation.

The first sensory experience that usually hits me when arriving at the party is a powerful and often nauseating olfactory sensation. This sensation immediately triggers a certain sadness.

Just as the scent of progressively rotting body parts that permeates the ‘common air’ near the meat counter in a supermarket, and most regrettably in many pseudo-natural food stores as well, sickens the sensitivities of the inhaler, so is the scent of ‘heat-treated’ cadavers on display at the party a bit challenging to handle even for the heartiest of plant eating folks who understand what is represented by the sometimes cleverly disguised meaty dishes.

It is well to keep in mind that the ‘scent’ or ‘smell’ results from actual physical particles of the stuff behind the glass or on the table coming into intimate contact with receptors in the scull. The scent of rotting flesh may be experienced as mildly offensive, horrendously objectionable, or even pleasurable, I am told, depending on the mindset, programming, culture affiliation or ‘source-knowledge’ of the person having the experience. So, while some, passing by the bloody counter/table will be powerfully repulsed, many will think nothing of it. It will, in fact smell just like the interior of the refrigerator at home.

But for the oblivious and the aware alike, there is no sensation of smell, no activation of the olfactory mechanism, unless, as stated, particles, millions of them, actually come into contact with living tissue in the head of the person doing the smelling. Along with the particles of flesh, blood and bone, Etc., are also millions of disease-producing microorganisms, mostly bacteria. Everyone breathing that air gets the little bugs, and takes them home, now circulating throughout the bloodstream, for free, like it or not… No purchase required.

Back to the party…

Sure, it’s the smell, the sight. It’s the understanding (Not that any one of us can begin to fully understand) of the terror, the torture, the slavery, the indescribable abuses that culminate in the murder of beings of another ‘race’, but fully conscious, sentient individuals, treated as ‘things’ and then slaughtered while still in the early childhood of their natural life-span. It’s the uncomfortable awareness that the roast is slavery, the cheesecake is rape, kidnapping and involuntary drugging, and the fried chicken is mutilation personified.

And it’s the stubborn difficulty understanding how the good-hearted people partaking of the unholy culinary creations can reconcile the contributions they make to the very things that they would go to war to prevent (Torture, Terrorism, Murder….) Try as I do, I think that I’m unsure how to fully relate to someone who professes a desire for peace, an appreciation of fairness, and an understanding that slavery is just wrong, but who also orders the execution of fully conscious individuals (Over one hundred every year per meat-eating person on average.)

How do you make sense of ‘a very nice lady’ who lavishes love upon the family dog, providing every comfort and sparing no expense for Spot’s care? A ‘very nice lady’ who would prosecute to the full extent of the law, anyone who so much as pulled Spot’s cropped tail, but who with the same mind that designs a life of luxury for Spot, also makes the conscious decision to sentence cows, bulls, pigs, and various birds and others to lives of utter horror day in and day out?

Really, how do you even trust the loving dad who works hard to give the best of everything to the kids, a guy who would swim an ocean or crawl across a desert to keep harm far away from his cherished children, Junior and Princess, but who delights at gobbling down burgers hot off the barbie, the meat of which is an amalgamation of the very bodies of 200 steers, who because they were born to be raised as ‘food’, suffered horribly in an environment totally devoid of dignity, and then were inhumanely snuffed out at the age of 18 months (Yes That’s MONTHS) out of a 25 year life-span potential.

And I wonder how the kids make sense of this confusing rationalization. I mean, this subject is, and will be, more in the inquisitive awareness of many of the younger people on the planet despite the creative and conniving efforts of the meat and dairy purveyors to disguise someone’s body as a ‘happy meal’ with all of the euphemisms that hide whose body is on the plate, all the intelligence-insulting slogans, the white mustaches and so on.

Awareness is growing, and many more of the people who are now children will, I think, see through the greasy smoke screen.

It must be obvious to anyone who thinks about it, it makes no sense, and it is indefensible behavior to support a system which commits the worst atrocities that contemporary civilized people agree cannot be excused. It is a system which, more than any other collective, but personally elective activity literally threatens the life-supportive abilities of the planet that our children would like to live on.
And all for what?

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