The other day a friend of mine called me out on my article “How Much for that Crocodile Head” which is exactly the sort of thing I approve of from the readers of “Streets of Lima.” The truth is that I like it when people get really fired up and disagree with me on some issue. A lot of the time, I just kind of lance out absurd ideas just to see what kind of reaction I get so when I get a plethora of angry responses I can sort through them in my brain and come to a better understanding of how I should think about things. You know, even when I wrote the “How Much for that Crocodile Head” article I wasn’t quite happy with it. Occassionally I get this kind of nagging sensation that I didn’t quite express myself to the best of my ability, and I had that sense with that article. However, I went ahead and published it anyway because I’m not above going ahead and sticking my foot in my mouth every now and then.
I think the main issue was that I mislabeled the people that I was actually drawing rage from during the course of writing that rant. Honestly, half the time when I’m writing, I just think of some people, or some group of people, who irritate me and I draw on their perceived offenses against me and the rest of humanity and I use that to fuel my creativity (and thus provide catharsis for myself, and hopefully…you).
When I was writing the Crocodile head article, I was taken back to the moment at Haiti when Owen bought the darn thing and our table, for a moment, became the epicenter of everyone at Haiti’s attention as they looked at us, some disapprovingly, in regards to our purchase.
Now, I mistakenly attributed the discomfort I felt at that moment to “environmentalists.” But of course, those two cent tourists at Haiti that night weren’t “environmentalists”…they were two cent tourists (now I’m going to get a bunch of emails from people objecting to my rage against two cent tourists).
I suppose I would have actually respected it if a true environmentalists would have come up to us and started complaining about how Caiman’s are endangered (which I don’t think they are since the crocodile design has prooven to be one of the most popular models of evolution…basically unchanged for bazillions of years). Somebody approaching OUR table in the presence of OWEN with such a complaint (any complaint) would have taken some moxy that would have been deserving of respect.
But you know, once I thought about it, I realized that the chances of anyone OBJECTING to the death of a crocodile are absolutely minescule, and that’s because the only endangered species that anyone cares about are the cute fuzzy ones. Everybody cries fire when some little baby seal gets clubed on the head, but when it’s a baby LIZARD…there’s no objection.
So no, I wasn’t really mad at environmentalists…I mean, who hates environmentalists? Who sits around and says…”You know what historical figure really GETS me? John Muir…I HATE that guy!”
Really, when you come right down to it, EVERYONE is for the environment because EVERYONE is for THEMSELVES and we NEED the environment to support our LIVES (at least I do, and I got to look out for number one because it’s hard to be altruistic when you’re DEAD!).