I wonder what kind of shape the smaller, interior pie was in after being shut up with 4-and-20 disgruntled blackbirds until dessert was served...
On Crabs' Pain
Growing up as a compassionate vegetarian in coastal New England, driving basically anywhere during the summer involved feelings of horror and revulsion at the atrocities I'd imagine every time the car passed a lobster pound crowded with jolly, ravening, oblivious tourists. The light-hearted 4th of July "lobster races" were a morbid and callous spectacle. I remember finding the David Foster Wallace article in Gourmet depressingly validating, just like this one--after all, I would SO much rather be mistaken about this, and let the "Ah, c'mon, they can't feel it!" crowd be right.
With so much suffering already in the world, why must our species repeatedly go out of our way to add to it?