by C. K. Patrick

Created on: February 29, 2008

I thought about launching a new crusade one recent morning, a crusade against the chicken industry.

It seems a December 2006 study by Consumer Reports discovered only 17% out of 525 supermarket chickens tested were free of contamination by salmonella or campylobacter. That struck me as over the top dirty and dangerous.

This little factoid stewed in my head for weeks, swimming around below the surface. Then I saw Rachel Ray make a chicken recipe. She felt compelled to emphasize three times during the brief segment the need to take safety precautions when handling chicken. Certain foods are now in the same category as dynamite, I guess.

Indignation and outrage lit up my little brain for at least twenty minutes, and I'm sure my blood pressure rose. This situation must be addressed by a widespread consumer rebellion and I must lead the charge! I could start a blog! I could initiate some type of internet movement! Write letters to the editor, call Oprah, call Rosie!

Then my attention was diverted to a blueberry muffin and my fresh coffee, it wandered on to think about answering my email, and as usual I did nothing. So much for my chicken crusade.

My friends know me as blunt and opinionated. I am loathe to deny anyone the benefit of hearing my view, which is, of course, the correct view. But like a few chips of ice meant to cool hot tea, my resolve melts away when it's time to take action on issues. That call to my senator's office can wait while I play Free Cell for an hour. If only I could be the person I profess to be

Where do fanatics get their focus? How do obsessives muster the compulsion? No wonder I never diet successfully, I can't even sustain moral righteousness past lunch.

The endless struggle between what we know we should do and what we actually do is a great puzzle. I think of myself as a person who cares about animals, and my cat will testify as a character witness. It troubles me to read about the horrifying conditions in the factory farms, the suffering of the chickens, pigs and other food animals, and the virulent environmental pollution spewed out by this industry.

The concept of our food coming from family owned and operated farms has almost become a nave illusion, blotted out by the reality of modern agribusiness.

And who with their wits about them wants to bring frightening bacterial contamination into their kitchen? Yes, thorough cooking will neutralize the germs, but if your clean up misses one little drop, look out. When we see ads for products like sanitizing anti-bacterial wipes and disposable cutting boards specifically designed to deal with chicken danger shouldn't we get a clue about the scope of the problem?

On the other hand, gee, I like chicken a lot and I'm as lazy and complacent as Homer Simpson. From stir-fry to cacciatore, I love it. I crave it fried, baked, grilled, and broiled, in and out of sauces. It's not as if I want these companies to stop providing my supermarket with a copious selection of skinless, boneless breast halves, I just want them to come from clean, healthy, chemical-free chickens who died peacefully in their sleep. And I want someone else to write a letter to the chicken company about it so I can finish my muffin.

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