Berkeley activists hold mock funeral for the masses of unique individuals whose lives have been cut short

Recently, a group of activists in Berkeley, California publicly staged a funeral for innocent lives lost.  (Video here, also embedded below.)  They spoke for the voiceless – for sentient beings with feelings, hopes, and dreams.  They cried out over and over again that each soul they mourned was a unique individual.

The activists were dressed in black and carried a mock coffin.  Many carried signs with succinct messages such as “We will not forget!”  Others held large graphic photographs.

Each one in turn read what appeared to be memorized scripts, with all the seriousness that such an event deserved.

Only in Berkeley, California could you find a mock funeral being held for chickens and other kinds of meat sold at a local supermarket, which is where the event was staged.  Drama was abundant, as one pre-packaged chicken was carried with reverence and placed inside the coffin.

The activists also shouted slogans like “It’s not food; it’s violence.”

They were a somber bunch, determined to awaken the sleeping masses to the horror of roasting a chicken for dinner.

The young man who kicked off the funeral was a real piece of work as he proclaimed with heartfelt passion that the animals sold in the meat department (cue grand gesture behind him to meat display case) “had stories of their own.”  A shopper in the background can be heard sarcastically saying, “Really?”  (It’s good to know there’s some semblance of sanity remaining in Berkeley, albeit a very small amount.)

But the young man was undeterred.  He was not yet finished with his monologue: “They had rich emotional lives, filled with desire, curiosity, pain, and sorrow.  All cut short because they were born of a different species than us.”

Oh wow.

Two minutes into the theatrical madness, a representative from the supermarket arrived on the scene to tell the mourners they needed to leave.

They ignored him.  (So heavy was their grief and woe.)

One of the activists stepped in front of the coffin for her 15 minutes of fame: “I’m sorry for the trauma, pain, and utter isolation you had to endure.  I’m sorry you were viewed as a mere commodity.  You’re not.  You’re a unique individual…”

Hold it!  Rewind tape!  Did she just say they were unique individuals?

Yup!  She did.

Oh dear.

Another member of the funeral squad stepped up to deliver his passionate rant, as supermarket employees continued, in vain, to get them to leave.  They held their ground as, one by one, they recited their short scripts.  One woman repeated the “unique individual” theme, adding that the animals were “no different from you and me.”

Again: wow.

Three minutes after the first store employee showed up to implore them to leave, they were still at it.  The young male activist who had spoken first returned to center stage, as it were, to lead a group chant: “It’s not food.  It’s violence.”

He slowly led the funeral procession down the supermarket aisles, preaching about the animal’s milk and eggs, children and families.  (If you had arrived at that point and missed the beginning, you might have thought he was stumping for increasing the welfare state.)

Before exiting the market, the young man removed the chicken he had placed in the coffin to give one more brief memorial about the “life lost” with a commitment that she (the chicken) will be remembered.

And with that he left the little dead pre-wrapped chicken behind.  With his grieving group in tow, they left the market all wearing long faces, looking like walking-dead-village-of-the-damned zombies.

Otherwise known as progressives.

But seriously, I see big things in this man’s future as a mover and shaker in the Democratic Party.

Congressman Chicken.

 

Hat tip: The Right Scoop

Recently, a group of activists in Berkeley, California publicly staged a funeral for innocent lives lost.  (Video here, also embedded below.)  They spoke for the voiceless – for sentient beings with feelings, hopes, and dreams.  They cried out over and over again that each soul they mourned was a unique individual.

The activists were dressed in black and carried a mock coffin.  Many carried signs with succinct messages such as “We will not forget!”  Others held large graphic photographs.

Each one in turn read what appeared to be memorized scripts, with all the seriousness that such an event deserved.

Only in Berkeley, California could you find a mock funeral being held for chickens and other kinds of meat sold at a local supermarket, which is where the event was staged.  Drama was abundant, as one pre-packaged chicken was carried with reverence and placed inside the coffin.

The activists also shouted slogans like “It’s not food; it’s violence.”

They were a somber bunch, determined to awaken the sleeping masses to the horror of roasting a chicken for dinner.

The young man who kicked off the funeral was a real piece of work as he proclaimed with heartfelt passion that the animals sold in the meat department (cue grand gesture behind him to meat display case) “had stories of their own.”  A shopper in the background can be heard sarcastically saying, “Really?”  (It’s good to know there’s some semblance of sanity remaining in Berkeley, albeit a very small amount.)

But the young man was undeterred.  He was not yet finished with his monologue: “They had rich emotional lives, filled with desire, curiosity, pain, and sorrow.  All cut short because they were born of a different species than us.”

Oh wow.

Two minutes into the theatrical madness, a representative from the supermarket arrived on the scene to tell the mourners they needed to leave.

They ignored him.  (So heavy was their grief and woe.)

One of the activists stepped in front of the coffin for her 15 minutes of fame: “I’m sorry for the trauma, pain, and utter isolation you had to endure.  I’m sorry you were viewed as a mere commodity.  You’re not.  You’re a unique individual…”

Hold it!  Rewind tape!  Did she just say they were unique individuals?

Yup!  She did.

Oh dear.

Another member of the funeral squad stepped up to deliver his passionate rant, as supermarket employees continued, in vain, to get them to leave.  They held their ground as, one by one, they recited their short scripts.  One woman repeated the “unique individual” theme, adding that the animals were “no different from you and me.”

Again: wow.

Three minutes after the first store employee showed up to implore them to leave, they were still at it.  The young male activist who had spoken first returned to center stage, as it were, to lead a group chant: “It’s not food.  It’s violence.”

He slowly led the funeral procession down the supermarket aisles, preaching about the animal’s milk and eggs, children and families.  (If you had arrived at that point and missed the beginning, you might have thought he was stumping for increasing the welfare state.)

Before exiting the market, the young man removed the chicken he had placed in the coffin to give one more brief memorial about the “life lost” with a commitment that she (the chicken) will be remembered.

And with that he left the little dead pre-wrapped chicken behind.  With his grieving group in tow, they left the market all wearing long faces, looking like walking-dead-village-of-the-damned zombies.

Otherwise known as progressives.

But seriously, I see big things in this man’s future as a mover and shaker in the Democratic Party.

Congressman Chicken.

 

Hat tip: The Right Scoop