From Portapak to Vlog: Slaughterhouse

Friday, March 30, 2007

Slaughterhouse

HELPxANIMAL, Animal Massacre in USA, 2007, 3 minutes 1 second.

[B]ehind our literature and philosophy, our ritual and art, stands the stout killer of Packingtown.... the cathedral and the capitol, the museum and concert chamber, the library and the university are the facade; in the rear are the shambles.
~ Will Durant, Oriental Heritage, p.7

[Martin Luther] King’s world house is still a damn slaughterhouse, because humanism doesn’t challenge the needless confinement, torture, and killing of billions of animals. The humanist non-violent utopia will always remain a hypocritical lie until so-called “enlightened” and “progressive” human beings extend nonviolence, equality, and rights to the animals with whom we share this planet. Link
~ Dr. Steven Best

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NEW YORK

(Office and Attack)

To Fernando Vela

Beneath all the statistics

there is a drop of duck’s blood.

Beneath all the columns

there is a drop of sailor’s blood.

Beneath all the totals, a river of warm blood;

a river that goes singing,

past the bedrooms of the suburbs,

and the river is silver, cement, or wind

in the lying daybreak of New York.

The mountains exist, I know that.

And the lenses ground for wisdom,

I know that. But I have not come to see the sky,

the blood that sweeps the machines to the waterfalls,

and the spirit on the cobra’s tongue.

Every day they kill in New York

ducks, four million,

pigs, five million,

pigeons, two thousand, for the enjoyment of dying men,

cows, one million,

lambs, one million,

roosters, two million,

who turn the sky to small splinters.

You may as well sob filing a razor blade

or assassinate dogs in the hallucinated foxhunts,

as try to stop in the dawnlight

the endless trains carrying milk,

the endless trains carrying blood,

and the trains carrying roses in chains

for those in the field of perfume.

The ducks and the pigeons

and the hogs and the lambs

lay their drops of blood down

underneath all the statistics;

and the terrible bawling of the packed-in cattle

fills the valley with suffering

where the Hudson is getting drunk on its oil.

I attack all those persons

who know nothing of the other half,

the half who cannot be saved,

who raise their cement mountains,

in which the hearts of the small

animals no one thinks of are beating,

and from which we will all fall

during the final holiday of the drills.

I spit in your face.

The other half hears me,

as they go on eating, urinating, flying in their purity

like the children of janitors

who carry delicate sticks

to the holes where the antennas

of the insects are rusting.

This is not hell, it is a street.

This is not death, it is a fruit-stand.

There is a whole world of crushed rivers and unachievable distances

in the paw of a cat crushed by a car,

and I hear the song of the worm

in the heart of so many girls.

Rust, rotting, trembling earth.

And you are earth, swimming through the figures of the office.

What shall I do, set my landscapes in order?

Set in place the lovers who will afterwards be photographs,

Who will be bits of wood and mouthfuls of blood?

No, I won’t; I attack,

I attack the conspiring

of these empty offices

that will not broadcast the sufferings,

that rub out the plans of the forest,

and I offer myself to be eaten by the packed-up cattle

when their mooing fills the valley

where the Hudson is getting drunk on its oil.

~ Federico García Lorca, from Poeta en Nueva York (1929-1930)

The Spanish Civil was began in 1936 and García Lorca was seen by the right-wing forces as an enemy. The author hid from the soldiers but he was eventually found. An eyewitness has told that he was taken out of a Civil Government building by guards and Falangists belonging to the 'Black Squad'. García Lorca was shot in Granada on August 19/20 of 1936 without trial. The circumstances of his death are still shrouded in mystery. He was buried in a grave that he had been forced top dig for himself. Accroding to some sources, he had to be finished off by a coup de grâce. One of his assassins later boasted, that he shot "two bullets into his arse for being a queer". Most probably, García Lorca wrote under pressure his last words on a note for a member of the 'Black Squad': "Father, please give this man a donation of 1000 pesetas for the Army." Don Federico, his father, carried the note in his wallet for the following years. He died in voluntary exile in New York. (source)

SUPERNATURE

Erasure Live 1989
(written by Cerrone/Wisnical/Lovic)

Once upon a time
Science opened up the door
We would feed the hungry fields
Till they couldn't eat no more
But the potions that we made
Touched the creatures down below
And they grew up in a way
That we'd never seen before

Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature

They were angry with the man
'cause she change their way of life
And they take their sweet revenge
As they trampled through the night
For hundred miles or more
You could hear the people cry
But there's nothing you can do
Even God is on their side (God is on their, God is on their, God is on their side)

Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature

The gods will break the ice
And throw it in the air
The creatures will decide
Who goes where

How can I explain
Things are different today
Darkness all around
No one makes a sound
Such a sad affair
No one seems to care

Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature

Better watch out
There's no way to stop it now
You can't escape
It's too late
Look what you've done
There's no place that you can run
The monsters made
We must pay

Maybe nature has a plan
To control the ways of man
He must start from scratch again
Many battles must he win
Till he earns his place on earth
Like the other creatures do
Will there be a happy end
Now that all depends on you

Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature
Supernature, supernature
Supernature, Supernature
Supernature, Supernature
Supernature, Supernature

MEAT IS MURDER

The Smiths

Heifer whines could be human cries
Closer comes the screaming knife
This beautiful creature must die
This beautiful creature must die
A death for no reason
And death for no reason is murder

And the flesh you so fancifully fry
Is not succulent, tasty or kind
It’s death for no reason
And death for no reason is murder

And the calf that you carve with a smile
It is murder
And the turkey you festively slice
It is murder
Do you know how animals die?

Kitchen aromas aren’t very homely
It’s not comforting, cheery or kind
It’s sizzling blood and the unholy stench of murder

It’s not natural, normal or kind
The flesh you so fancifully fry
The meat in your mouth
As you savour the flavour of murder

No, no, no, it’s murder
No, no, no, it’s murder
And who hears when animals cry?

BEASTS OF ENGLAND

Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.

Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o'erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.

Rings will vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
And cruel whips no more shall crack.

Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.

Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.

For that day we all must labour,
Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom's sake.

Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.

George Orwell, Animal Farm

QUOTATIONS

Isn't man an amazing animal? He kills wildlife - birds, kangaroos, deer, all kinds of cats, coyotes, beavers, groundhogs, mice, foxes and dingoes - by the million in order to protect his domestic animals and their feed. Then he kills domestic animals by the billion and eats them. This in turn kills man by the million, because eating all those animals leads to degenerative - and fatal- health conditions like heart disease, kidney disease, and cancer. So then man tortures and kills millions more animals to look for cures for these diseases. Elsewhere, millions of other human beings are being killed by hunger and malnutrition because food they could eat is being used to fatten domestic animals. Meanwhile, some people are dying of sad laughter at the absurdity of man, who kills so easily and so violently, and once a year, sends out cards praying for "Peace on Earth."

- from Old MacDonald's Factory Farm by C. David Coats

The animals of the world exist for their own means. They were not made for humans any more than black people were made for whites or women for men.

- Alice Walker

My Lords, I have heard it said once and the saying has haunted me ever since - that if animals believed in the devil, he would look remarkably like a human being

- Lord Bishop of Manchester

The cruel wild beast is not behind the bars of the cage. He stands in front of it."

- Axel Munthe

Now I can look your in the face; I don't eat you anymore.

- Franz Kafka

Every great movement must experience three states: ridicule, discussion, adoption.

- John Stuart Mill

Link

If we are trespassing, so were the soldiers who broke down the gates of Hitler's death camps;

If we are thieves, so were the members of the Underground Railroad who freed the slaves of the South;

And if we are vandals, so were those who destroyed forever the gas chambers of Buchenwald and Auschwitz.

- X

There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor political, nor popular, but he must take it because his conscience tells him that it is right".

- Martin Luther King

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Friday, March 30, 2007

Slaughterhouse

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