Today I was doing the usual Monday morning bs-ing with a coworker (read: procrastinating because we both didn’t really want to start actually working for the week), when they brought up something that has continually caused me to throw up in my mouth throughout the day. I am so bothered by it that I naturally have the desire to share it with the Internet. Maybe said Internet can give me some perspective. Or let me know that “Yes, this is effing weird.”
I am hoping this is just a PA thing, because otherwise we as human beings are not terribly removed from the Donner Party.
“Pickup Truck Guy had to leave work early on Friday because his wife hit a dear,” my coworker confided in me.
“Oh, that sucks,” I said, flinching a little and thinking of the damage that a deer can do to any vehicle.
“Yeah,” coworker continued. “He brought in chili today made with the deer meat.”
I stared blankly. WHA?! Roadkill chili?! *blink. Blinkblink*
“I didn’t eat any,” the poor Oblivious One continued. “I don’t like beans.”
When my eyes couldn’t get any wider, I chimed in, “Yeah, I don’t care for gravel or motor oil in my chili.”
BECAUSE COME THE HELL ON, PEOPLE!!
This is not the first time that I’ve heard of someone going back to pick up ROADKILL and get it processed for meat.
I’m not much of a fan of hunting under any circumstances. I understand some of the rationales that people use to go- culling the population and blah di blah. And I can even slightly understand the desire to take what you went out and shot out of a combination of patience and skill and turn it into food/a trophy of some time. It’s not for me. But I get it.
There’s no glory or skill involved in that. Bambi’s mom just wanted to cross the highway, and some ass in an SUV who was texting at the time took her out. And smeared her across two lanes. And then ATE HER.
I just don’t understand how someone could possibly desire to collect a carcass that was mowed down by a bajillion pounds of metal and rubber, bring it back to their HOME, and then bring it somewhere to be made into food that people will put IN THEIR MOUTHS. (Meanwhile, said CARCASS [because that’s what it IS] has been sitting on the road, where insects and micro-organisms began attacking it almost immediately and giving it all kinds of diseases like Cholera and the Black Plague.) Where was the connection made between the gory mess on the road and “yum yum dinner!!”??
Maybe I’d change my tune if there were Wild Cupcakes or Feral Cheeseburgers running around central PA. I’d be swerving offroad in my trusty Ford Focus to take out one of those suckers. Seriously though, there is something to be said about the butcher counters at the local supermarket, with their shiny cutting devices and neatly stocked rows of meat that did not end its existence on an interstate, but somewhere in an equally shiny factory with health codes and regulations and INSPECTIONS. It helps me sleep at night.
Which I would not do if I had just eaten a big piece of Groundhog Pot Pie. Or a dish of Possum Goulash.