The Headline of the Week

I'd be the first person to tell you I have a somewhat strange way of looking at things and a "few sigma" sense of humor - where I use that to mean "far from normal." Telling you that means I think you're going to need to keep it in mind. 

On Thursday, Legal Insurrection blog (one that's not regular or everyday reading but that I visit maybe a couple of times a week) ran a headline story that simply caught my eye, at first, but blossomed into my favorite headline of the week. 

Let me start out the normal way. In reality, this is a sad story. The greenies, in their perpetual dream that they can save the planet from any real or imagined doom, got legislation passed to drug the cows with a medication called Bovaer that somehow reduced the methane the cows produce during digestion. This was a new drug, apparently never widely used before. From the first few words of the article's title you might have figured out the problem.  The drug (or some combination involving the drug) is killing the cattle.

There are now reports that from Denmark of cows collapsing and suffering illness after eating Bovaer, which is now legally required for many farms in Denmark as part of its national climate policy. Some farmers claim their cattle experienced severe symptoms after eating the additive-infused feed, including collapse, lethargy, reduced feed intake, fever, diarrhea, miscarriages, and significant drops in milk production. 

The article isn't very long, and it's another shining example of how when legislatures pass laws to address a problem they apparently never think, "...and then what happens?" The author points out, "Consumers are also alarmed by the introduction of a supplement to animals, with no consideration given to the long-term effects of humans consuming meat and dairy products from animals that eat the additives."

The reason it became my favorite story of the year ties back to that 3-sigma sense of humor. See, it fires off pretty regularly with no thought on my part. This time, my brain grabbed the music and lyrics of a song I grew up listening to 60 years ago, "Big Girls Don't Cry" by a group called The Four Seasons. (Here if you want to listen to it). Instantly, the repeating lyrics went from "Big Girls Don't Cry" to "Dead Cows Can't Fart." Then it became impossible to go more than a couple of hours without thinking of - or even singing it in as close to Frankie Valli's falsetto as I can get. 

From: Big girls doh-on't cry-yi-yi
To: Dead cows cah-an't fa-ar-art

Now that I've passed on the mental virus to you, my work here is done. To quote The Big Guy: thank you for your attention to this matter.