Yesterday I saw an article that, instead of inspiring me to greatness, was attempting to inspire me to become a vegetarian. They made a wonderful little argument in a cartoon on the side of the page. Let us be in awe of its brilliance:
1. Animals are my friends (Animals are my friends)
2. I don't eat my friends (Friends are things I don't eat)
3. Thus, I don't eat animals! (Animals are things I don't eat)
To be fair, the article was arguing about the amount of energy resources we can save by becoming vegetarians. But, in my view, there are a plurality of ways to save energy resources (including never printing another article on how people OUGHT to be vegetarians). Nonetheless, the cartoon which was with the article seemed to capture the sentiment and action of the culture better than the article itself. Although, to your surprise, I agree with the first premise that animals are my friends; I happen to disagree with the second premise because I eat my friends. Why am I okay with myself even after I admitted publicly that I eat my friends? Because, under normal circumstances, insofar as my friends are both not human and delicious, I am just fine with eating them. What does this come down to? For me (notice I am employing the subjective principle), my human friends are radically different than my animal and plant and rock friends. And I would suggest that it should be the case with you as well; that is, unless you desire to be a mere animal.
After I say what I'm about to, in this post and in the next, I hope to never revisit this point again. In this post, however, I'd like to begin by establishing two principles that are obvious to me. Humans are fundamentally good. This does not simply mean humans have something good about them or some goodness in them, but rather it means in the core or essence of who they are, there goodness is. The second principle that is obvious to me is that humans, who are fundamentally good, have a power (or capacity) to do unplumbed, immeasurable, and untold things (whether greatly good or greatly bad). Now these points seem obvious to me but they may not to you so, in my next post, I will explain them a little bit starting with the second point.
Absolutely splendid. I am also inclined, at times, to eat my friends.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteI don't think you're getting the point Tom!
ReplyDeleteI was hoping that comments would be serious and pertinate to the material presented. It seems clear Tom wants to go a different direction from this article's intention.
ReplyDeleteInteresting post, Kyle, and I appreciate the subtle distinction. Looking forward to the denoument!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your writing Kyle.... launching us into greatness. I think this is good, but as you know I have a problem when vague ideas do not become concrete.... I will keep reading. :) Thanks friend (that I'm not gonna eat).
ReplyDeleteWow, I also didn't know that I had an 'account' check it out.... even a picture!!! I'm an avid blogger and I didn't even know it.
ReplyDeleteHow does one tell if an animal is your friend?
ReplyDeleteGreat question. I guess I think of any animal I like as my friend. The ones I like that seem to like me back are really my friends.
ReplyDeleteHow about an animal who likes you and cannot show it for fear you will not like it, but the animal acting like it does not like you causes you to not like the animal who senses your hostile feelings and doesn't like you back. Is this animal your friend or your bane? P.S. I will find you! . . . sincerely, Bloggstocker.
ReplyDelete