Monday, February 27, 2006
To My Brother Paul, With Whom I Slept
My friend Paul Gruwell owns a baby seal fur pillow. When he first showed it to me, i thought it was faux fur, like the ones that hollywood starlets parade around at cocktail parties. But Paul, either sensing my confusion or accustomed to justifying this particular accessory to everyone who sees it, proceeded to explain to me that this was not, as it appeared, a false seal fur. Rather, it was 100 percent "organic", found and purchased on ebay. Well, not "found", I guess. I'm sure that it must've been "found" where all other baby seal furs are found; beaten and skinned out of a wide eyed, weeping animal.
At any rate, perhaps out of guilt, Paul launched into a ten minute monologue describing the how and why surrounding the pillow. I'm not going to repeat what he told me, because i don't think that the man should have to explain himself.
Now, if I were on an arctic cruise, I wouldn't hang over the rail of the shuffle board deck with a club, hoping to run ashore on an ice drift full of sleeping baby seals. I've got no blood vendetta out for zoo animals. But am I gonna lose any sleep over other people killing them? No.
And more than anything, it really burns me that my dear, dear friend, whose character I so admire, has come under relentless attack for a square yard of dead seal fur.
Can any of us doubt that given ten fingers and fully developed frontal lobe, most baby seals would be cruising the ice patch in human skin coats, hats, and booties? Have you ever read about a person found dead at home, whose corpse had been nearly picked to the bone by their pet cat? The beauty of the animal kingdom is that it doesn't sentimentalize to the point that it can no longer perform its primary function; self preservation. So don't hate Paul for getting to the seal before the seal had the chance to get to him.
At any rate, perhaps out of guilt, Paul launched into a ten minute monologue describing the how and why surrounding the pillow. I'm not going to repeat what he told me, because i don't think that the man should have to explain himself.
Now, if I were on an arctic cruise, I wouldn't hang over the rail of the shuffle board deck with a club, hoping to run ashore on an ice drift full of sleeping baby seals. I've got no blood vendetta out for zoo animals. But am I gonna lose any sleep over other people killing them? No.
And more than anything, it really burns me that my dear, dear friend, whose character I so admire, has come under relentless attack for a square yard of dead seal fur.
Can any of us doubt that given ten fingers and fully developed frontal lobe, most baby seals would be cruising the ice patch in human skin coats, hats, and booties? Have you ever read about a person found dead at home, whose corpse had been nearly picked to the bone by their pet cat? The beauty of the animal kingdom is that it doesn't sentimentalize to the point that it can no longer perform its primary function; self preservation. So don't hate Paul for getting to the seal before the seal had the chance to get to him.
# posted by American Cowboy @ 5:16 PM 
