Militant Vegan

While recounting an old story to a new lady in my life, I stumbled upon a new realization.

The story was; when I was 20 and living near the intersection of Buena Ave and Broadway in Chicago, I was on my way home from class one evening and almost suffered an attack to my head.

It was 6ish or 7ish and it was dark out because it was winter. A well dressed black man was walking up the sidewalk from the opposite direction. He slowed up, looking at me, like he recognized me. I slowed too thinking I might try and recognize him in return. He kept looking at me, then said "I should fucking kill you right now!" He next swung what looked like a metal faucet piece. I ducked just in time, the whoosh was a loud one. Relief was a loud one too; it didn't connect with my skull. I ran away from him shouting every single curse word I could think of until I got into the foyer of my building and rushed up to my apartment. 

When my breathing calmed, I called the police because I remember thinking, if I wind up dead I want them to have a suspect. Two police officers came, we filled out a police report. They told me to not take it personally, that there was a mental health facility nearby that was pretty come-and-go, some of their folks wandered around the neighborhood. I didn't so much take it personally, I didn't think that was the point.

Many months later I think I did see that guy again. I was waiting for a southbound Redline train, and I could see him across the tracks waiting for a northbound. I looked at him but he didn't look at me. I doubted that he remembered doing it, but I kept on looking, curious if there would be any sign of remembrance. Or guilt.

The new realization was this: at the time of the attempted assault, I was carrying home some food from the KFC around the corner. Something I had never considered before was that he could very well be a militant vegan sticking up for animal rights. Maybe it was personal. Maybe he was trying to permanently end my semi regular diet of meat. If this was it, then he would cease to be a bad guy in my book. I really like animals but don't have the courage to resist the barking of my taste buds. Perhaps I should listen the echoes of the past and their what-ifs. But I'm still just about to head off to the grocery store to pick up some meat to pan fry later this evening.

Subtle Sway

I'm a product of my environment. I've watched plenty of TV and suffered through and enjoyed commercials of different varieties. When I was younger we used to tape movies off TV. Our old VHS of a taped Ghostbusters contains grainy nostalgic doses of old Pillsbury Doughboy commercials, Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chips, Pizza Hut ads spreading word about the Land Before Time puppet giveaways with meals. That tape has been worn to shit. A few years back I watched it and felt just at home with those old commercials as the classic movie itself. 


It had a dream like quality for me, and dreams are the best way to sway me on a product. If a brand can dunk itself far enough into my subconscious to bob as a staple in my dreamland, then I'm pretty close to convinced. 


A few weeks back I had a dream I was driving around back in my hometown of Auburn, ME. It was snowing. Through the blinding white hitting the windshield I hunted for sight of a Dunkin Donuts. In fact, this quest for a Dunkin Donuts; a hot cup of coffee and a few chocolate glazed donuts was the through-line of this REM adventure. When I awoke, I made a stop soon after to the donut destination. It convinced and stirred a hankering better than any commercial. But the dream's successful sway can give credit to the year's of accumulated memories revolving around late night visits to 24 hr Dunkin Donuts for warm cups, glazed indulgences, or something to do at an odd hour.  The experience stays and reinforces. 


A few dreams of KFC have fucked up my arteries in consequence.


The other night I had a dream of a different display of propaganda. Rahm Emmanuel put forth an initiative for Chicago's poor, and wealthy. In a gargantuan, vacant warehouse on the west side he "sought" to fight hunger and paucity by enlisting dozens of food vendors to donate to a pop up grocery store. He invited all of Chicago's residents to stop by over the course of the day, and one cart per household was welcome to fill up with foodstuffs, at the city's expense. Now, when one got to the warehouse to push their cart around for an easy one time break from hunting and gathering, they were also immersed in a pseudo museum showing historical photos from famous casinos, such happy faces playing games! Murals spanned walls with child like renditions of wonderful times at the slots! The initiative to slow hunger was also a campaign to get all the citizens excited about the potential Chicago casino coming our way. And what a perfect demographic to spike the hope of a lucky win; the lower class. And middle and upper class. 


All were invited to fill up their carts. 


All were invited to see the glory of the gamble.