I painted a text mural at Judas Goat Taberna. It's Gastown, what can I say, who can argue with Blood Alley ? it's a great place. Interesting views of the city's very own ornamental hermitage, from the comfort of clean well lit spaces, and fine dining. My writing sometimes poses difficulty for the uninitiated so the following comprises the body of text; it speaks to the problems faced by judas goats, when government regulations protect corporate interests, with respect to food production.
Goat, Judas Goat. Pleased to meet you. Welcome to my place. Please sit down, have a drink, and a bite to eat. Enjoy yourself, relax. You deserve it. It’s rough out there, and I ought to know. I had a nervous breakdown, victim of my own success really. On stress leave, and thinking about rolling this into a sweet retirement. It was simple back in the day, when farmers were allowed gate sales, the meat you ate came from one animal. Every so often I would lead a herd of spring lamb to the truck or a few cows to the slaughterhouse. Things got busy later, operations got bigger, increased demand and I was working steady, every day busy. The money was good, up at Seven, get my stink on, take a load of sheep to the truck, move 30 head of cattle, break for lunch, then back for more cows, a coffee, a few more sheep, and knock off at five for a cold one. Like I said, the money was good. Then one day, THEN ONE DAY!! The government changed the laws, no more gate sales, each and every animal slaughtered had to be taken to an abattoir. I was working insane hours. No lunch. No coffee. They upsized and I was head of the largest department in history. Crazy making. Up at four thirty, meet the team by teleconference. Each moving six hundred head of cattle by seven. Don’t even mention the sheep. Millions, literally. The stress was giving me an ulcer. By the time the cows went nuts, I walked. We take it slow here, it’s peaceful. The food is good. The company is excellent.
-© Robert Chaplin admmx. copy cats are dirty rats