Remember This the Next Time You Hear a Canadian Slam America’s “Barbarism”


One the key tricks writers use is to type the words that are in their heads, or sometimes coming out of their mouths. This makes today’s post for me exceptionally difficult, because if I printed the litany of four-letter words that just came out of my mouth after reading Jamie Glazov’s article, I’d be fired.

I know there are more pressing issues to tackle, but this is one of those things that get my blood boiling. I’m not the type of guy that believes animals are to be on par with human beings and that killing an animal is inherently wrong, but that does not justify the inhumanity and all-round scumbag nature of Canada’s harp seal slaughter. It’s a monstrosity and it is unthinkable that this happens today after all the progress we’ve made in acknowledging the undue suffering of others, humans and animals alike.

Here is how Glazov describes it:

“A man with a spiked club approaches a defenseless seal pup and begins to beat it mercilessly until the pup is bloodied, pulverized and semi-conscious. The attacker then drives a hook into the seal pup’s eye or nose and drags it across the ice. Then he skins the pup while it is still alive. The mother of the pup watches from a close distance, squealing in agony — after it helplessly tried to get in between her baby and the clubber to protect her offspring. The convulsing carcass is left on the ice for its mother to sniff and grieve over.”

To be honest, I didn’t watch the video or click the links because I know I’ll march around my house, stomping my feet, shouting obscenities about how I’m going to find a seal hunter to club. There is a significant risk of me becoming Batman, lurking in the shadows to pounce upon these evil-doers with the full rage of Christian Bale on a movie set minus his distracting lisp.

For those concerned about animal rights, apparently “The Cove” is one of the best documentaries around, although I can’t attest to it because I refuse to watch it as I know I’ll go into a depression. It has provoked my friend Corrine Henn (yes, I’m totally accepting my friends’ requests to be mentioned) to go on red-faced tangents about becoming a pro-dolphin vigilante in Japan.

But I don’t think the hunters have much to worry about considering she once asked me, “What are the things on doors called that you use to open the door? Are they called door handles?”