I went to see Stretch Armstrong (I was a big supporter of the underground when I lived in Baltimore) and PETA was part- sponsor of the tour (they stuck out like a sore thumb). It was at the Ottobar (anybody ever been? one of my favorite places in America) and it was the night after we burried my grandfather, so I was beligerent to begin with. I don't believe in animal cruelty, but don't stand there in Nike's (made in third world sweatshops under borderline slavery conditions by children and abused women working 13+ hours a day) and tell me I need a priority check or to take care in social interest. You want a social ill to protest, try human trafficing or the child sex trade. Needless to say their conversation with me didn't last long
I'm all about living in America and having the freedom to believe and support whatever you want to, but don't come up to me the day after I bury a loved one and feed me some crapola jargon trying to make me feel guilty about a tournament shirt my brother gave me because I lived so far inland. That targets edible fish, by the way. Kiss my fishing backside PETA.
And THAT's what I was doing at a PETA event. Causing trouble
