For some reason, a post I wrote almost two years ago has suddenly gone viral. The post is called “Designer Makes Women’s High Heels From Horses’ Hooves” about Iris Schieferstein and her predilection for using animal parts in her designs for shoes.
Here is an example of her work:
You can find more info at the link.
Apparently, someone pretending to be a singer by the name of Lady Gag or Gaga or something like that has worn Schieferstein’s shoes, presumably so she could go galloping around Central Park pulling a carriage full of tourists.
But all of this is neither here nor there. The point I was getting at (and there is a point) is that I wrote the post because I thought the shoes were odd, and I am not at all a fan of Lady Gaga, Schieferstein, or the shoes. If anything, the posting was inspired by a strong desire to mock the foolishness of some humans.
I have now been deluged with comments accusing me of being a heartless human being because I wrote about Schieferstein. Commentators somehow suppose that I am in league with her or in support of her work. This is certainly not true.
However, nearly all of the most critical comments are regarding her (and my) supposed mistreatment of animals. This is off-base. Schieferstein gets her animal parts from slaughterhouses–she does not kill these animals. They were already dead before she arrived, and they were destined to die regardless of what she did with their remains. Indeed, she is putting to use animal parts that would otherwise probably go to waste.
But since it is impossible to logically reason with someone who is being unreasonable, let me pour some gasoline on the fire: I love horse. In fact, I simply adore it as a meat, and my children do too. Especially smoked horse sausage.
Perhaps a little explanation is in order. When we lived in Xinjiang (the far west of China), one of our best friends was a Kazakh, and his mother owned a local restaurant specializing in Kazakh food. One Kazakh delicacy is smoked horse sausage (actually, it is a dish borrowed from the Mongols), and we used to eat it at that restaurant at least once a week. It was our special hangout, and my kids still talk about it even to this day.
Let no one on earth call Kazakhs (or for that matter, Mongols) cruel to horses because they sometimes make sausage out of them. Kazakhs are more than anything else the people of the horse. They love their horses more than they love life itself. However, if a horse will not breed, becomes lame, or becomes ill, they do just what every other horse breeder in the world would do (including breeders in the US): They put the horse down. And being good people, they do what any good person should do: They use every part of the animal, and let nothing go to waste. A large horse can produce enough sausage to feed a small family for months. None of the horse we ate at the restaurant came from animals that were slaughtered for their meat. Rather, it can from animals that were going to be slaughtered anyways. If the meat had not been eaten, then much of the animal would have simply gone to waste.
So, yes, defiantly, I love to eat horse. In fact, I wish I had some right now, as just writing about it makes me hungry.
Let the flaming begin.