January 1, 2004 Las Vegas Mercury by George Knapp

I quit eating red meat a few years ago, for reasons I will explain in a moment. Since then, I have consciously avoided the temptation to lecture other people about what they should or shouldn't eat, just as I would never presume to criticize someone's religion. People should be free to make their own choices on such matters without whining and lobbying by well-intentioned but irritating do-gooders. That said, though, I have no reservations about giving out some information so people can make informed choices.

I didn't quit eating cows and pigs because of health issues, although the argument could be made that there are health consequences from heavy meat consumption. Nor did I make the decision based on the environmental havoc wrought by the meat industry. No, I quit because I started thinking about what it really was that I was eating, and once I thought about, I couldn't stomach it anymore.

Back when America was a more rural nation, people knew that the beef on the dinner table was once a cow out in the corral. These days, most of us don't think at all about the flesh on our forks. It's as if that juicy T-bone was harvested from a beef tree. In reality, it's a piece of decaying flesh from the corpse of a dead cow. Those delicious baby back ribs didn't sprout out of the ground on a rib plantation. They were once attached to the veins and corpuscles and guts of a pig. Admittedly, the aroma of frying bacon or a grilling hamburger still appeals to my senses, but then I remind myself what's generating the smell.

Anyone who's ever worked in a restaurant knows that meat has to be treated like it's toxic waste. It can't come into contact with any other food. If meat sits on a counter for even a second, the counter has to be disinfected. Health inspectors go bonkers if meat is even stored above produce items. The reason is simple--meat is what it is, and what it is is rotting flesh.

This case of mad cow disease up in Washington should rightfully make people pause to think a bit about what they've been eating. I know that it's "only one cow" and there is "no threat whatsoever to public health" and yadda yadda yadda. But I also know the American people were told that mad cow couldn't happen here, that our rigorous inspections and stricter standards would ensure the safety of our beef supply. I also know there is one hell of a scramble right now to recall all of that "safe" beef from eight states, including Nevada.

Does anyone seriously believe this disease miraculously appeared from nowhere and infected just this one single cow? And do you also believe that those fastidious and tidy souls who run meat-packing plants really do make certain that no tidbits of cow brain or spinal matter ever make it into our hamburger? It may be the conspiracy lover inside me, but I am not at all convinced that the public is being told the truth about the extent of mad cow disease.

I suppose we learned a few things from the 140 or so Brits whose brains melted when they ate meat tainted by mad cow. But we didn't learn enough to stop the practice of making cows eat other cows. For eons, cows have been herbivores, but beef producers, not wanting to waste a precious shred of tasty animal carcass, started grinding up dead cows and feeding them to other cows. We not only turned cows into meat eaters, but into cannibals, and we wonder why they become diseased?

In Wisconsin, I'm told, it's common practice to grind up roadkill animals for use in cattle feed. Wild deer and other game are picked up, ground up, then served to ol' Bossie out in the feed lot. Do you suppose any of the carcasses of those wild animals are ever infected with disease? Here's another little nugget: The USDA estimates that 130,000 "downed cattle" are sent to slaughter each year. Downed cattle are those animals that are too sick to stand up or walk unassisted. They may be too sick to walk, but they aren't too sick to be served in our restaurants. (The Washington animal that was infected with mad cow was a "downed" animal.) Attempts by Congress to outlaw the slaughter and consumption of downed cattle have repeatedly been thwarted by the powerful meat industry.

Look, anyone who wants to eat meat should be able to stuff their guts to the bursting point. Fry it, grill it, bake it, barbecue it and go back for seconds and thirds if you want. It's a free country, sort of, and I'm sure I will soon be hearing from plenty of meat lovers who think I should butt out.

I will admit to being a bit of a hypocrite since I still eat some chicken. (I am working toward weaning myself from all dead flesh, but the first step was to give up the consumption of fellow mammals.) But it just seems like this flap about mad cow disease offers people a chance to pause before they bite into that next Big Mac. It didn't get to your mouth by way of the hamburger bush. It's something to think about if you are still pondering New Year's resolutions.