Today I got another biandong for 45NT$.  As I was eating my chicken thigh and picking out the bits of meat stuck in the joints, a random thought occured to me: If we were to witness the animal slaughtered, actually witness it lose its life for our gain, then perhaps, we would be less wasteful with food.

Nowadays, we don’t kill our own chickens anymore. My grandma used to chop off the head, drain the blood, and plucked its feathers and such. But times have changed. We go to the supermarket and buy it from the meat section, or order a ten piece from KFC. Being so removed from chicken deaths, when we mindlessly down another drumstick, it’s quite easy to forget that it once was part of something living, breathing, and … gobbling. It’s only when we’re reminded of that fact, that we appreciate it more. This is the value of life. And this reminds me of so many tangential ideas: Christ’s sacrifice, abortion…. Such is the power of chicken talk.