Only Humans can Treat Chickens Humanely

Wha?? See, I know what you are thinking. But the title of this post was taken directly from a Foster Farm's billboard that I encountered this morning on my way to work. "Only Humans cans Treat Chickens Humanely" it touted. To the left of this slogan a family portrait bragged of Foster Farms' obviously impeccable value system. Mom, Dad, charming country house behind them. Three little ones, glossy and well fed presumably on humanely treated chicken parts.

I snorted as I passed, considering the ramifications of this statement. The Webster's dictionary defines humane as " marked by compassion, sympathy, or consideration for humans or animals." I'm almost positive that having the flesh gnawed off your bones after being economically snuffed, bled, hung and plucked would not qualify as humane in most circles. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not all activist-y and I do eat chicken. My roast chicken kicks ass, if I do say so myself. And I do. Because it's delicious. And I rock. Woo!

Okay, back to what I was talking about. Humanely killing chickens. This kind of sentiment bugs. Can't they just be honest about what's really going on here? Here are some alternative slogan suggestions.

"Foster Farms: Only Humans can Kill an Animal and Consume its Flesh while Still Convincing Themselves it's Humane. Aren't You Glad You Are a Human Instead of a Chicken?"

"Foster Farms: We Electrocute our Chickens and Chop off Their Heads While They are Passed Out. This Is Much Better than Clubbing Them. Trust Us."

"Foster Farms: Death so Quick You'll wish You Were a Chicken."

"Foster Farms: We Only Killed the Ones who Had it Coming."

"Foster Farms: What to Chickens Have do Live for Anyway? They Don't Even Celebrate Christmas."

"Foster Farms: We Didn't Kill them, they Willingly Sacrificed Themselves for the Greater Good of Humanity. It's As it Should Be."

"Foster Farms: We Eat What We Kill. This Way They Did Not Die In Vain, Thus Making Their Death Honorable."

I'm a hypocrite. The honest truth is that if I could only eat what I killed, I would have to be a vegetarian. I couldn't even kill a turkey, nature's butt-stinking-ugly D-student. In fact, knowing me, I'd cut open a tomato one day and get all guilty when I think how happy it was sitting on a vine in the sun. Slowly I would starve to death as I thought about the various humiliations that produce endures in order to arrive orphaned on a grocery store shelf. I'd end up buying all the rotten and bruised items, feeling sorry that they wouldn't get picked. Instead of eating them I would take them home and make them a little bed from tissues and an egg carton where they could live out their last days in peace.

Then I'd die.

Good thing there are places like Foster Farms that relieve me of the obligation to kill things and do their best to make me feel warm and fuzzy about the way they were dispatched. Yep, I'm glad to be human.


Cyndi