I had that queasy feeling through me tonight, the one that occurs when I'm standing in the frozen food section of the grocery store watching dozens of seemingly normal people -- many of them blessed with the almighty responsibilities of voting and procreation -- as they clamor for hundreds of dead, frozen turkeys.

Then, my inner sight shifts voutward, and my other eye telescopes above the scene in the middle of which I stand: Hundreds of people clawing their ways through the deli department, their mouths watering and bellies a-rumble as they fantasize about the literal tons of packaged animal being tossed into carts with the dead slap of plastic on grated metal, tons and tons of animal dead since not a one of these people knows when, and I shudder, walk away, and can't even think about putting a screaming salad into my mouth tonight.

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