Orange County Register: Dina Kourda, on behalf of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, is requesting that the city install a sign to memorialize the hundreds of fish killed in a traffic crash.
The sign would read, “In memory of hundreds of fish who suffered and died at this spot,” to remind tractor-trailer drivers of their responsibility to the animals who are “hauled to their deaths every day,” according to the letter provided by PETA.
The crash occurred Oct. 11 when a truck, carrying 1,600 pounds of live fish crashed with two other vehicles.
“Research tells us that fish use tools, tell time, sing, and have impressive long-term memories and complex social structures, yet fish used for food are routinely crushed, impaled, cut open, and gutted, all while still conscious. Sparing them from being tossed from a speeding truck and slowly dying from injuries and suffocation seems the least that we can do,” the letter continued.
I like fish. I like dogs. I’m even ok with cats because they don’t give a shit and they know how to piss in their own space, even if they do permanently hate their owners until they day they die from eating too many fish bones or whatever else they find in your trash. But I don’t know about that whole “research” comment. They tell time? Come on. The planet moves, the moon orbits, they feel the tides, ok. But I doubt very much if my goldfish can wake me up in time for f-ing 6am flight. 6am?! In order to get in line in time for your anal probing at the hands of the TSA flunkies, you have to arrive at the airport before it’s even open. And god forfuckingbid you have to fly to South Carolina on business during what the rest of the world considers a holiday. ”WHOOOHOOO! We’re going down for a weeklong golf trip! Uh, dude, why are you wearing a suit?” F-ers.
You know what my own research tells me? That fish are awesome when they’re pan seared, maybe with some butter and white wine and garlic and pepper, no need to go crazy. Or if you grill them in foil and then geeently pull the whole skeleton out just so. Mmm-mmm-mm. Fish. Good stuff.
Hey, you want to mourn someone? Mourn the poor bastard who shelled out $7.99 a pound for a veritable shitload of pacific snapper that’s at the bottom of some dump in California now, mourn him and his dying business.
And ps – “the least we could do” is probably “nothing,” not that shit that you said.