Having been born in North Carolina I am not a true native of Central Ohio, but since I spent the majority of my formative years 22 miles east of Ohio’s Capital, I know a bit about cows. The family of one of my very best friends in grade school ran a dairy farm. I experienced my first kiss playing spin-the-bottle in a barn where cows were present (and I’m not talking about any of my former classmates). We accidentally set some cows free at an infamous middle-school slumber party. And while I personally cannot cop to any cow-tipping adventures, I’m sure many of my schoolmates could.
Did you realize that millions of dollars are being spent to study the emissions from burping cows? It’s said that a herd of 200 cows turns out the annual equivalent amount of methane to the energy produced by a family car being driven 111,850 miles. And you thought their piles of poo were enormous! Cows are leaving a carbon footprint the size of Texas. But at least we’re figuring this stuff out, right? I’m so glad to know that all these research dollars are being spent so wisely. I mean, cows burping. Who woulda thought THAT was contributing to the destruction of our world as we know it?
Really, though. I don’t give a pile of cow poop.
I’m stunned by what people care about these days. I know we all have our “causes” and things that we’re passionate about. And before my son was diagnosed with neuroblastoma I cared about things like cows. And animal testing. I was against it. I used to be a member of PETA back in my idealistic days as a social worker. I just wanted the world to be a happy place. I wanted to take care of all the schizophrenics AND stop P&G from shaving the eyeballs of bunnies to ensure their razors worked. (I know! Gross!)
The irony of it all is the simple fact that my son is lying on a bed in a world renowned cancer center receiving a by-product of a mouse. These mouse antibodies hopefully hold the key to what will save my son’s life. It’s painful. It’s horrible. It’s hell. And I’m sure his screaming puts out more emissions than a herd of 200 camels (this is worse than 200 cows because camels have two stomachs). So, sorry about your luck, little mouse. We need your antibodies to save my son. I do believe I would have been against this back in my idealistic phase (and before I had children), but now? Screw it. I’ll kill the mouse myself in order to save my son. I mean, if I can drive a hypodermic needle into my son’s leg over and over again I can certainly kill a mouse. I’ve really grown in my ability to perform ridiculously disgusting feats.
So, I think that we should drop all funding for figuring out emissions from cows belching because, as I type this, I am listening to room after room of children screaming in pain. Crying for relief. Pleading for God to help them. And before my son was put into a pain-med-induced sleep, he was one of the children who was screaming. Let’s focus our research money on getting these kids WELL! We know that it can be done. It takes determination and some strong support of people with BIG money. We saw it happen with AIDS research. Billions of dollars and tons of testing later, people can live normal lives with an HIV diagnosis. Aren’t these kids worth the same dedication? Isn’t my son worth it? There is nothing as heart wrenching as watching what I’ve seen over the past week. Trying to comfort my son as he screamed “STOP THE PAIN!” and “WHY, GOD?” and “I HATE NEW YORK!” I told him that once we’re done with all this antibody hooey we ain’t never coming back to this crazy town.
It’s maddening that while I plead for my son’s life I learn that millions of dollars are being spent on measuring cow emissions. And here’s another one: The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism invested $102,000 in discovering if sunfish who drink tequila are more aggressive than sunfish who drink gin. Really? I just want to inject these idiots with mouse antibodies and deny them pain meds. I know. Not very PETA-friendly of me.
All of this is a big pile of cow poop. I’m tired of watching my son trudge through it and I’m tired of trying to clean up after it. Stupid cow. I’m just so tired. So very tired.