Our foxes are free

A slightly irreverent view of the foxhunting controversy. This document was found on a web site somewhere; its authorship is uncertain. When the site that contained it apparently closed down, I saved the document at this site with flagrant disregard for copyright laws. If the original owner complains, I'll remove it.

"Loose the wise oriental gentlemen upon the field. Let us wait the half hour." "To the hounds! TO THE HUNT!"

The isle of England suffers the menace of rabies being endemic to its native animal populations, especially foxes. A natural low level of infection persists. In olden times epizootics exploded, spilling over to infect human hosts. That infection is virulent, transmissible, and lethal. Human death by rabies is prolonged and agonizing. The obvious solution to an omnivorous scavenger preying upon farm resources and serving as a reservoir for a lethal disease was to evolve a tradition of controlling the pest population, and thus foxhunting.

English Animal Rights freaks exhibit the extremes of behavioral eccentricity of their incrementally saner brethren. In the English tradition, irrational zealots are pampered, revered, and socially sequestered lest they marry an ennui-dripping daughter. It is lamentable that the Irish difficulty - a nation unwilling to suffer domination by England and too anile to achieve independence - has lead to a cottage industry of fire bombs, pipe bombs, car bombs, plastique bombs, and escalating terrorism. The Irish double and redouble their efforts in the absence of any detectable goal to which to progress. Having thus discovered religion, the Irish have served as an example to Animal Rights maniacs, who do not hesitate to maim and kill people to appeal for an end to the supposed maiming and killing of animals.

The English climate flings its damp chill in your face. These are the good times. The bad times accurately mirror what Siberia could offer were its tortures just above water's melting point rather than much below. A fur coat makes excellent sense, as mirrored by the indigenous fauna, all of which have luxuriant pelts. A fur coat makes excellent sense, as mirrored by the inebriant Saxons, who ripped the hides off those native fauna rather than have their hairless skins turn blue as a woad-smeared native Celt. Animal Rights zealots have firebombed and blood- splattered the English fur industry. They have hurled those murderous furriers out of business and relegated their shame of shames - glorious mink, ermine, and chinchilla creations - to a more deserving providence, usually in Arabia.

Much as the March of Dimes had to find new diseases when polio was finally conquered, so the Animal Rights radicals had to find new oppressed vermin or collectively go on the Dole. Foxes were next, and England stands poised on the brink of enacting by law a return to those halcyon days of rabies running roughshod over the moors, randomly torturing and killing its rural population. While this is acceptable, what will punctuate the stifling anomie of its horse-obsessed landed gentry who might otherwise be driven by their boredom to participate in government? Parliament could hardly tolerate the persistent and penetrating presence of stale equine sweat, dank manure, and rural accents!

England has a local abundance of peoples from lands its past Empire administered and exploited. English employment being what it is, which isn't much, they form a desperate unskilled labor pool in the manner of American immigrant farm workers. Organ donation is severely limited in its repeatability. The lure of a modestly intelligent game animal free of appended caterwauling by special interest groups was overpowering. The fox hunt succumbed to social conscience, and was immediately reconceived as the WOG hunt. Who could object to that?

A thundering stampede of hooves and a blizzard of dirt clods follow the baying of hounds! The shrilly bleating huntmaster's horn urges his men and women onward! A furtive scampering among the brambles explodes into full, desperate flight as the WOGs scatter before their betters. The dogs! THE DOGS! Close behind the Animal Rights activists follow, assuring that not a single fox is disturbed.

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