Coop de Grace- Highlander’s Bram Lebo… chicken scratches from a freely ranging noggin

Which came first? The chicken or Lebo’s dementia… Vegas line is 66-1 in favor of the latter

Terrance Gavan – Farming Beat

Manitoulin Island (is) the home of the Small Flock Poultry Farmers of Canada, or SFPFC… their mission is to advocate for farmers of relatively small numbers of poultry birds – Small Flockers, they call themselves – in a world dominated by factory farms, supply management and government over-regulation. (Bram Lebo is Hatching a plan! Quick find your thinking cap… He’s goin’ long and he’s goin’ deep!)

Oh, Terry. Quit beating up on Bram Lebo. Sorry peeps. I can’t. My shrink says that writing is good for me. Keeps the spinning snakes and silly-ciben holographics from my noggin. Well, the pills help a bit.

Anyway, the wee scrotum of Bram Lebo’s latest screed, we quote above to indicate where salvos shall drop. Untidily and peremptorily. The over regulation Bram refers to is not an issue that can be addressed in a 100,00 word University of Toronto economic study, never mind the fart-addled twaddle Lebo promotes in his latest five foot zero lickspittle diatribe.

This week, at least Lebo has utilized the ironic pastiche of the chicken industry for his hen-scratched and myopic meander through the barnyard of his discontent. Just another of Lebo’s Coop-de-grace. Death blow sounding the clubbed detritus of a point. The point? Bram likes his chicken on the hoof as it were. Free from the entanglements of an industry gone wild; wild everywhere except where it should be according to Lebo. Lebo wants his eggs fresh and his rhetoric stale.

He lives in Haliburton. Hallelujah! He can have his chicken free rangey and his rhetoric bland and mangey because he owns a newspaper. Where he gets to shilly shally, flim-flam and Trans Am his gritty dirges.

“three factors are the reasons why you can’t buy local chicken and eggs (or beef or pork) in your local grocery store and only find these things on a local menu. They lead to absurdities like Canadian pork being sold in Florida supermarkets at the same time our Highlands supermarkets are stocked with American pork. They are the reason local farmers must take their chickens to Lindsay for slaughter, then back to be sold from the farm gate (assuming people know how to find that particular farm gate). (Lebo Unplugged – from shame and reality)

Okay this is absolute horseshit and I say that just to keep up with the Old MacDonald arse-holey malarkey emanating from the north end of a southbound Lebo.

I grew up on a cattle ranch, spending my summers in the Manitoba Interlake. I rode horses, I chased cattle and chickens and milking Holsteins. I worked at cattle auctions and I saw Canadian ranchers suffer the vagaries of protected US markets. There is a reason we have regulations in the farming industry. We live beside a nation of fucking carpetbaggers who could, if there were no regulations, crumple the Canadian farm industry in one fit of pique.

Don’t let the spittle and shit dripping from the pen of a trifling wee lawyer mislead you. He’s hankering for approval. So he has thrown out a tidy fairytale. Where all people could be fed from the small garden of a neighboring farmer.

I am not in favor of factory farms. I hate them. I reffed a soccer game at St Thomas Aquinas in Lindsay last week. If you know the locale? You will be aware that there is a windowless, skylightless chicken operation abutting the grounds of St Thomas. It smells. It’s a factory. And it doesn’t make me wish to eschew chicken for free range chicken. It makes me a vegetarian.

Factory farms can be so efficient because the welfare of animals and consumers is not a consideration. If a one-pound chicken can be turned into a one-and-a-half-pound chicken by pumping it with water, and birds can be kept disease-free with chemicals rather than humane living conditions, all will be done in the name of cheap meat and big profits. (Lebo pounding away with no neurons firing.)

Okay they don’t pump chickens with water. I’m not even sure if Lebo thinks before he places such moronic lather on page. Someone get me a picture of Lebo’s garden. Disease is rampant in factory settings for the same reason flu is passed on so extravagantly in a school setting. Proximity is a great incubator.

By the way. Who does the shopping in Lebo’s family? Cos’ I’m not finding cheap meat anywhere. Lebo likes living in a small town. It removes him from the bigger picture. It gives the mind a luxuriant place to graze.

Where every house has a chicken or two. Where you don’t need to become a Vegan to stand on principle. Where one is free to ruminate on ruminants without the requisite onus of a fact check… y’know like they do in the real world. Most of all… it gives a man the freedom to wax purple on this, that and all and sundry. You Know… like this:

In places all over the world, the chicken is becoming a symbol of reclaiming our food system. It’s a symbol of self-sufficiency, sustainability, and of the right to make one’s own choices. Most of all, it’s a symbol of freedom, the kind of freedom that’s been eroding for decades. (Lebo… explaining why he’s never defended a shoplifter in real court… the batshit crazy factor…)

Yes… Haliburton! Go now… buy a chicken… put it in your backyard… Oops now get a Rooster… more chickens too!

Free range at last…

Free range at last…

Thank Bram The Flighty!

We’re Free at Last!

(With apologies to Martin Luther King… and chickens everywhere.)