Today marked the first day of the traditional Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain. You may not know this but Pamplona, Spain is actually where the Fountain of Youth is located, except replace ‘Youth’ with ‘Stupidity.’
According to reports at least 9 people were injured in the festivities, which included being chased by angry bulls over a half mile course before finishing in the bullfighting arena. No word yet on how many bulls were injured during the chase but I wouldn’t worry too much about the bulls. Apparently they have some wonderful veterinarians (or “bullfighters” if you prefer) waiting in the stadium (or slaughterhouse) and if they deem any of the bulls to be too injured (or too bull-like) to live they humanely put them down. This is often a slow process that takes the bull many hours to die but I’m quite sure that they have the bull’s best interests at heart. Often, crowds of sympathetic supporters (or sadistic barbarians) gather to mourn (cheer) the bull’s passing.
I’m laying on the sarcasm pretty thick here, and I’ve never really considered myself an animal rights activist or anything. Mostly because that would require some kind of principles or commitment on my part and that sounds like a lot of work, but something about this 9 day festival just isn’t right. I’ll be the first to admit that I love me a good steak, and I don’t have a problem with the killing of tasty animals for sustenance, but I guess I draw the line at doing it for sport. Does this mean that I do have some principals? Is this what it feels like to take a stand for a cause? It feels kind of tingly with a faint air of superiority. I think I like it. Have I finally found an outlet for my bawdy self-righteousness?
Note: If you turn my comments section into an animal rights flame war I will run over the next cat I see.