Secret Sausage
Another great story, thanks.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
Yes, foodborne illness is a HUGE problem in this country, because huge commercial operations raise and process animals in ways that all but guarantee the contamination of the meat. I’m talking about the new, deadly form of E. coli, O157:H7, whose growth in cow’s stomachs is promoted by a diet of grain, whose spread is ensured by the conditions in feedlots (cows standing up to their knees in excrement), and that contaminates beef carcasses (upwards of 40%) when the processing is driven by speed not care (allowing stomach contents to come in contact with the meat). I’m talking about a Consumer Reports study that found 71% of chicken purchased from the supermarket was contaminated with Salmonella, or Campylobacter—or both!
When, instead of addressing all these problems that allow pathogens into our food supply in the first place, regulatory agencies criticize or go after small-scale, local producers who are working hard to offer an alternative—safe, nutritious, and delicious meats—you can see just how screwed up our food policy has become in this country.
I expect more out of you, Reader. If these were two decapitated dogs “kissing” on the cover, there would be massive outrage, but because you deem pigs as “dinner” instead of pets, nobody bats an eye. Why on earth would you think this is OK? Where is there any justification for this? If these were dogs or cats, you would be considered a sociopath, so why then do we not give the same consideration for the miserable lives of “food animals”? No more garbage like this, please. Review all the dead animal flesh you want in your restaraunt reviews, Sula, but keep the mutilated, decapitated animal pics to yourself, OK?
Re: “Jeff Felshman, RIP,” posted by Alison True, November 25
I’m shocked and deeply saddened to hear Jeff is gone. I worked with Jeff at Powell’s Bookstore for a few years in the late 80s. He always had a great smile and a wonderful off-handed story for any moment. His laugh was always distinctive and infectious. He was there when I was shot and then wrote a major Reader feature on it and stayed friends for years. After Powell’s we would run into each other every six months or so and catch up—Grace’s passing, marrying Tracy, his new baby, watching the boys grow up so fast. The world has suffered a great loss with Jeff’s passing, a true bon vivant.