Everybody Needs Some Help, Sometime

Reading time: 3 – 4 minutes

This song goes out to all who helped me during my latest transition, whether in thought, patience, understanding, compassion, action, love, healing, invitation, warmth, insight, direction, etc.

More importantly, this song goes out to anyone and everyone who believes he or she is alone and cannot count on the kindness of strangers and friends. That you are alone, is a lie. It will always be a lie. You are never alone, and you can always ask for help, even if you have to ask 100 people to get that help. ASK. And keep asking, without forgetting to take care of yourself along the way.

You are not alone.

Thank you to all my friends. You are the stitching that holds the fabric of my life together in ways that turn out to be how I keep myself warm, sheltered, and embraced when I least expect it.

I love you.

(scroll down, click the PLAY button, and sing along with the lyrics and your heart)


THESE ARE YOUR FRIENDS
ADEM

I wish that I’d arrived a little sooner –
You really should have called
we’d have come here right away
You tried to help yourself but you got it wrong

You’ve thrown yourself
Into the flames ’cause you’re covered in cold
But these are your friends
They give out a nice warm glow

You’ve tried so hard to see for yourself
Your perspective is wrong
These are your friends
Let them come guide you on

Listen now – now’s the time to listen
There’re lessons to be learned
I’ve seen this before in my own life
You feel covered up, removed from the world around you
With all your senses dulled you’d do anything to feel
You tried to help yourself, but you got it wrong

You’ve thrown yourself
Into the flames ’cause you’re covered in cold
But these are your friends
They give out a nice warm glow

What have you done? You’re cutting your cord
You’re floating in space
But these are your friends
They’ll be your star-map home

Everybody needs some help sometimes

BROADBAND VIDEO LINK

The Path to Home Leads Within

Reading time: 13 – 22 minutes

LOCAL Celebratory GRAFFITI

Well, I am home (again). I now live in one of my favorite neighborhoods of Manhattan: LOWER EAST SIDE! I love this neighborhood!

First, my road to getting here was a very frustrating and debilitating path, so I am still recovering. In fact, as soon as I was unpacking into my new apartment, I have now fallen sick with a pretty severe summer cold. My body, heart, and mind were just about broken in this latest transition of life.

Instead of sharing this path in story-telling style, I will just list the events:

Cyprus announces out of nowhere that she has decided to live on her own and that we will move from our apartment, separately. This was fine, except that we had very little time to prepare and, while she was totally set with a steady income and support from all around her, I was unprepared because of my sporadic income and lack of support. This decision left me and Johnny in a very difficult and painful position.

I worked hard to secure another income so as to save money in time for my impending move out on my own, which took a lot of time, and then when that was secured, it fell through. I found something else shortly after, and I am SO happy with that source of income. I’m glad the first one fell through, because I love going to work for this extra income now. Still, I would not have enough money or time before our move-out date to secure an apartment on my own.

I negotiated a potential plan with Clem so that I could stay with him as a transition into a new apartment. This was primarily because Cyprus and I had won our court case against our landlord (who was illegally collecting rent from us) and the condition for my collecting my initial deposit back was that we would be out of the apartment by a certain date. That meant that I wouldn’t get the money unless I had moved out, but I needed the money to move out! Clem was very supportive and loving in his intentions as a boyfriend to help with this turbulent transition. He encouraged my surrender to this and assured me that it was a viable option. As the time closed in on me and I hadn’t secured an apartment, it became one of my only options.

Meanwhile, Cyprus and Nick announce to me that they are not only moving in together, but that they have found a place and would be moving in the middle of the month. So not only was Cyprus leaving me behind, but now she was moving in with Nick, my Ex. This came as a huge shock and I was seriously disoriented by this; left with anger, sadness, and confusion on top of everything.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Clem dumps me. Just before his eagerly-awaited vacation time out on Fire Island. Along with this announcement to me over the phone, he also made arrangements to come and collect his keys to his apartment. I no longer had the option to stay with him as I secured an apartment. At this point I am seriously at a loss of words for how plummeted into defeat I felt. I knew I would survive and I knew I was going to be okay, but all of this was beating the hell out of me. Clem left for Fire Island and with my anger and sadness amplified by Clem, Cyprus, and Nick, I felt the most isolated and defeated I have felt in a long time.

I speak to Nick and Cyprus about the reality of my probably having to move with them as part of my transition into my own apartment as I saved money and waited for the court settlement. Nick suggests I find someplace else to stay.

I conclude that I am utterly alone in this process and that it may very well end that I am on the streets as I try to find a new home. I brace myself for this.

Nick retracts his suggestion that I find someplace else to stay, explaining that it was just a suggestion and one that was laced with a lot of concern for how long I might end up having to stay. I refuse to accept the retraction and vow that I will not live where I was originally unwanted.

Moving day comes and I am forced to move my stuff along with Cyprus and Nick, but I have no idea where I will live in the days or weeks ahead. I decide to ask my friend, Mark, if I can stay with him. He generously says, “yes!” My stuff is moved into Cyprus’s and Nick’s place and I leave to go stay with Mark. That’s when I discover a miscommunication has occurred and that Mark has left town. I decide to sleep in a park.

Meanwhile, my income has dwindled to a halt because of a lack of connection the internet, and I think, “all I have to do is get through a few days of this until my settlement is released to me and then it will all be over.” I surrender to the reality of having to sleep in a park and decide to make an adventure of it. I happened to meet up with Fabio that night, and it had never occurred to me that it was an option to stay with him, but he offered for me to stay with him, despite the lack of room. I told him, no, but he convinced me to check it out and I did, but as I did, I received a devastated phone call from Nick and from Clem who were seriously upset by my having to stay in a park. This upset me so much because I was trying to take care of myself with what little resources I had, but then I was made to feel like I was a criminal for making THEM feel bad for my situation! But it was of no matter to them that I was IN the situation in large part BECAUSE of their influence! LOL It was an exasperating situation on top of all of the feelings and pressure I was already experiencing. Now the situation had transcended from my dealing with MY pain and difficulties, to having to make others feel better about my situation before I did.

I did not stay in a park, after all. I stayed with Nick and Cyprus and Johnny.

Johnny and I had cleaned out the previous apartment and followed all of the conditions so that I could get the settlement, but when I went to claim my money, the evil bastard landlord decided NOT to pay. As a settlement had already been ordered by the court, he HAD to pay, but he delayed my receiving the payment as long as he could AND he short-changed the payment by $700. I spent the next two weeks, every single day, fighting for that money so that I could move and get my own place. My lawyer would confirm that I would be able to collect the money the next day, and then he wouldn’t call me, or I would be informed that it would be “just one more day.” This went on for more than two weeks beyond when I expected to collect the money.

I surrendered to staying with Cyprus and Nick and Johnny, but this was not a good situation, considering all of the feelings I was having in middle of this horrible transition, along with working at my new job, and dealing the reality of the impact my transition was having on my clients, students, and groups I host online. My lack of ability to remain in contact and follow through with work online was met with harsh criticisms and complaints. Eventually, all of this pressure building all around me and among everyone led to a huge blow-up of emotions. Cyprus and Nick went head to head with Johnny and me, as Johnny was/is in a similar situation of displacement because of Cyprus’s decision, and he was feeling the pain and humiliation of that. This explosion seemed to help burn off most of the nastier energy that had been accumulating, and that pivotal explosion was a good thing.

I almost forgot to mention that when Cyprus finally got her internet connection scheduled for setup, the cableman was ARRESTED in the middle of his services and taken away in cuffs! We still do not know what happened, but a second man came to finish the job, and he left the installation in such a shambles that we not only had no internet connection, but Cyprus’s computer had to be completely reformatted, with a complete reinstallation of everything. Before I left, they still had no stable internet connection that worked the way it should, but I was able to get her computer restored.

As each day passed and more work was lost, and more apartments were lost (due to my not having enough money for the initial move-in costs to secure the apartment), the delays against my settlement continued. Eventually I had enough money to pay for a move, but had no place to go, but I was suddenly offered a roommate situation with Mark! In the Lower East Side! YAY! I was so thrilled! Not only did he offer this, but he offered it despite the bad timing of my having not received my settlement. I could pay my rent when I received the settlement. I scheduled movers and I was all set!

Then, I awoke one morning just before my move to the sounds of static and splashing… I then hear Nick yelling down into the basement (yes, the basement… that’s where I slept while living with them) about a torrential downpour. When he flips on the light, I find that the mattress I am on is now surrounded by swirling torrents of water! The basement was FLOODING! Electronics, clothes, mattress… all submerged in about 5 inches of water! We worked fast to unplug what had been plugged in, and to lift out of water all of the electronics. In the end, the strangest thing had happened: the shape of the old basement floor had created a pattern in the swirling water so that the flow had not touched my mattress, had not touched my electronics, but several bags of my clothes had become saturated in flood waters. I spend the next two days washing all of my clothes to the extent that I can before I move.

The day of my move! The movers show up 2 hours early! This is fine, because I am already packed, but I had made arrangements for later with Mark, and this timing was essential since his current roommate had not moved out, yet. I clear it with Mark that I can arrive earlier than planned. I am loaded and ready to go, but have to find a way for me and Spyder to get to the new apartment. No car service will come to get me, except one, and they made me pay a huge price for bringing my wonderful dog.

I arrive to the building where my movers have already parked and I find that the security of the building has turned them away…. because NO MOVE INS ARE ALLOWED ON A SUNDAY!! NOT ONLY THAT, but they will not allow a move-in from the unloading area without a proper permit that I would not be able to get in time. Not only THAT, but they have a rule against any unloading or loading from a truck in the parking lot, which would shorten the unloading distance! Mark is not at the apartment (because I was two hours early), and the previous roommate (who was still living in the apartment) was not answering the phone, SO… the movers had to leave with all of my stuff.

Luckily, the adorable movers liked me and they came back two hours later for unloading, despite the restrictions for Sunday move-ins, but they would not be able to unload anywhere near the building: they ended up having to unload the truck and move in my stuff from about an entire block away!

I tipped them extravagantly for their amazing patience and effort.

The day came for me to collect on my settlement! I no longer have a checking or savings account because I cancelled out my awful “credit union” account I had from Saks (from when I used to work there), so the lawyer assured me I would be able to have the check made out to whomever I wanted so I could cash it or pay someone or do whatever I wanted. This was perfect.

Except, not only did that not happen, but they made the check out to BOTH Cyprus AND me (since we were both a part of the lawsuit against our landlord)… requiring BOTH of us to be present at the time of the check cashing. I discovered a check-cashing place nearby that would allow a settlement check to be cashed, and so all I had to do was get Cyprus to meet me.

But of all the days to do so, she had left her cell phone at home. I had no way to inform her to meet me. Not only that, but it was the evening of her big business dinner. Luckily, I knew where she was, called them to have a discreet message given to her, and she was able to call me and make a quick arrangement for later. We were able to cash the check within ten minutes of closing.

Although I had moved in, the previous roommate kept having a story as to why he could not move, so he lived here, too, and then it took a few more days for him to come and get his stuff when he did leave, which left no room for my unpacking completely. He and his stuff are now gone.

I wish so much that I could say I am safe and sound and feeling at home, but I’m not quite there, yet.

As soon as I began unpacking, I fell ill with a severe summer cold, discovered how filthy the apartment really was and how many days of cleaning it would take to make it livable, how much money I would have to spend in that process, and to my shock and horror that the apartment is infested with ROACHES toward which I am now waging a battle! In addition to that, I have been attacked verbally by two groups of Black people already, shouting out hateful and threatening words against my sexuality, screaming out that “he takes it up the ass!” and that I should kill my dog because she is “fuckin’ UGLY,” and to “get the fuck out of here, you fuckin’ homo!” Not only have I never had to deal with this kind of violent and hateful assault except from Black people, but I have NEVER had my sexuality used as a form of public humiliation and assault. The words are meaningless because they are just stupid, but the extent of hatred and venom behind the words are what terrify me, since it’s the kind of hatred that causes someone to spittle while scraping the words across another person. I guess it’s not just a Brooklyn thing…

Despite all of the adventure, loss, turbulence, etc. I am feeling pretty happy, as there is nothing left for me to do but to laugh and trust and move forward, loving even the most bizarre and confusing elements of this funhouse of my life. So don’t get me wrong… I am really excited and thrilled and relieved, despite not being able to fully just relax into it.

Today I sit in a sparkling clean apartment, with fresh flowers in vases throughout, and the roaches almost under control (this really REALLY bothers me), and I have a truly appreciative roommate. Cyprus and Nick and Johnny and I are all better with each other and may experience a new level of bonding, though it will take some patience and time. I truly love them, so it’s vital to allow the anger, hurt, loss… but also vital to make the effort to heal these experiences. People don’t realize that the very experiences that can tear you apart are the very experiences that can bond you in love.

As for Clem, we’ve barely spoken to each other since the breakup (my choice; he actively keeps in touch), but we are okay. I developed a love for Clem that won’t just disappear, so I choose to cultivate the healing, even if that will take a long time, or end in a gentle fading away from each other’s lives, or he just becomes another friend. I’m getting used to Boyfriend-come-Friend equation.

I lie here with my dog, Spyder, in the middle of a horrendous heat wave, but at least with some weak air conditioning, and the reality is that there have been more wonderful people welcoming me into the neighborhood than I have experienced in a long time. That’s something I never experienced in Brooklyn. People actually speak to you in Manhattan. In Brooklyn, everyone seems to keep to themselves and you never know your neighbors, unless you have been living in a particular neighborhood for a long time. In Manhattan, I have always known nearly every neighbor I have, because they actively interact and welcome you. I am so glad to have that again! Another wonderful thing that I haven’t experienced in a long time is having random conversations with strangers pop up so naturally and organically while out and about doing daily errands and walking Spyder. That never really happened in Brooklyn.

So… I’m not completely “at home,” yet, but I am closer. I think I need to feel it inside of me, first, before I begin to completely see it around me.

But I’m on the right track…

Barbaro: The Race to Reinstill Human Compassion

Reading time: 10 – 16 minutes

I have a lot of updates to report about my transition into, through, and beyond my most recent move, but first I have to write about this:

ANIMALS ARE NOT OURS TO EXPLOIT

I’m sure that most of you have heard or read about Barbaro, the winner of the ridiculous Kentucky Derby that forces high-speed racing upon thoroughbred horses as a form of gambling and entertainment. As with much of the cruelty within the industry of non-human animal slavery, much of what happens is either ignored or unknown and it breaks my heart that this beautiful creature may continue to suffer, and surely die, without anyone really understanding how unnecessary his injury and death are. This horse will suffer and die as a result of greedy, apathetic, disconnected human indulgence, and there is nothing I can do about it. Barbaro represents so many other animals in the entertainment industry who suffer or die for absolutely no point but to make Humans laugh or make money.

Beyond the obvious horrors of war, poverty, illness, and other troubles in our world, I find it more terrifying when something so devestating and insidious such as animal exploitation, slavery, abuse, and cruelty is met with such widespread apathy, active dismissal, and complete ignorance. I can’t save Barbaro, but I just wish for just one more person to care enough to stand as a form of intelligent rejection of such things as Horse Racing. It’s a start. Maybe you won’t give up eating animal bodies as a form of convenience, and maybe you won’t stop wearing their skins, but starting SOMEWHERE as a form of support for compassion beyond our species is a start at supporting peace in our world in a way you may never have considered. Think about it: If a person can wrap his or her mind and heart around the concept of caring enough for another species that his or her choices then take the shape of choosing compassion, peace, and kindness… it only makes sense that this same energy would affect our species and our world. And I don’t mean that in some metaphysical sense; I mean it literally. That “energy” is the impact of your choices, your behaviors, your thinking… and when those things are shaped by conscious compassion, it cannot help but change our world.

It’s important, though, to make your choices from an educated position, and here are some details about the Horse Racing industry:

The Horseracing Industry: Drugs, Deception and Death

They weigh at least 1,000 pounds, they have legs that are supported by ankles the size of a human’s, and they’re forced to run around dirt tracks at speeds of more than 30 miles per hour while carrying people on their backs.(1) Racehorses are the victims of a multibillion-dollar industry that is rife with drug abuse, injuries, and race fixing, and many horses’ careers end in slaughterhouses. A New York Daily News reporter remarked, “The thoroughbred race horse is a genetic mistake. It runs too fast, its frame is too large, and its legs are far too small. As long as mankind demands that it run at high speeds under stressful conditions, horses will die at racetracks.”(2)

The Starting Gate

Racehorses can cost millions of dollars and are often purchased by syndicates, which may be composed of thousands of members.(3,4) There are also trainers, handlers, veterinarians, and jockeys involved, so a horse is rarely able to develop any kind of bond with one person or with other horses. Racehorses travel from country to country, state to state, and racetrack to racetrack, so few horses are able to call one place “home.” Most do not end up in the well-publicized races but are instead trucked, shipped, or flown to the thousands of other races that take place all over the country every year.

Racing to the Grave

Horses begin training or are already racing when their skeletal systems are still growing and are unprepared to handle the pressures of running on a hard track at high speeds.(5) Improved medical treatment and technological advancements have done little to remedy the plight of the racehorse. One study on injuries at racetracks concluded that one horse in every 22 races suffered an injury that prevented him or her from finishing a race, while another estimates that 800 thoroughbreds die each year in North America because of injuries.(6) Strained tendons or hairline fractures can be tough for veterinarians to diagnose, and the damage may go from minor to irreversible at the next race or workout. Horses do not handle surgery well, as they tend to be disoriented when coming out of anesthesia, and they may fight casts or slings, possibly causing further injury. Many are euthanized in order to save the owners further veterinary fees and other expenses on horses who can’t race again.

Given the huge investment that owning a horse requires, reported one Kentucky newspaper, “simply sending one to pasture, injured or not, is not an option all owners are willing to consider.”(7) Care for a single racehorse can cost as much as $50,000 per year.(8) When popular racehorse Barbaro suffered a shattered ankle at the beginning of the 2006 Preakness, his owners spared no expense for his medical needs, but as The New York Times reported, “[M]any in the business have noted that had Barbaro not been the winner of the Kentucky Derby, he might have been destroyed after being injured.”(9) Compare Barbaro’s story to that of Magic Man, who stepped into an uneven section of a track and broke both front legs during a race at Saratoga Race Course. His owner had bought him for $900,000, yet the horse hadn’t earned any money yet and—unproven on the track—wasn’t worth much as a stud, so he was euthanized.(10) Joseph Dirico, the owner of a filly who suffered a heart attack and died mid-race at Pimlico only days after the Preakness, said of her death, “I guess that’s part of the game.”(11)

Drugs and Deception

“Finding an American racehorse trained on the traditional hay, oats, and water probably would be impossible,” commented one reporter.(12) Many racehorses become addicted to drugs when their trainers and even veterinarians give them drugs to keep them on the track when they shouldn’t be racing.

Which drugs are legal varies from state to state, with Kentucky holding the reputation as the most lenient state.(13) The New York Sun explained that because “thoroughbreds are bred for flashy speed and to look good in the sales ring … the animal itself has become more fragile” and that “to keep the horses going,” they’re all given Lasix (which controls bleeding in the lungs), phenylbutazone (an anti-inflammatory), and cortiscosteroids (for pain and inflammation).(14) Those drugs, although legal, can also mask pain or make a horse run faster. Labs cannot detect all the illegal drugs out there, of which there “could be thousands,” says the executive director of the Racing Medication and Testing Consortium.(15) Morphine, which can keep a horse from feeling any pain from an injury, was suspected in the case of Be My Royal, who won a race while limping.(16) One trainer was suspended for using an Ecstasy-type drug in five horses, and another has been kicked off racetracks for using clenbuterol and, in one case, for having the leg of a euthanized horse cut off “for research.”(17,18) A New York veterinarian and a trainer faced felony charges when the body of a missing racehorse turned up at a farm and authorities determined that her death had been caused by the injection of a “performance-enhancing drug.”(19)

“There are trainers pumping horses full of illegal drugs every day,” says a former Churchill Downs public relations director. (20) “With so much money on the line, people will do anything to make their horses run faster.”

Even the ‘Winners’ Lose

Few racehorses are retired to pastures for pampering and visits from caring individuals.

An insurance scandal cost the life of Alydar, who came in second in all three races of the 1978 Triple Crown and fathered many fast horses. After being retired from racing in order to serve as a stud at a Kentucky farm, Alydar was originally believed to have shattered his leg by kicking a stall door and was euthanized when he wasn’t able to maintain a splint.(21) Ten years later, an FBI investigation revealed that his leg was deliberately broken when it was tied by a rope to a pickup truck.(22)

Ferdinand, a Derby winner and Horse of the Year in 1987, was retired to Claiborne Farms and then changed hands at least twice before being “disposed of” in Japan; a reporter covering the story concluded, “No one can say for sure when and where Ferdinand met his end, but it would seem clear he met it in a slaughterhouse.”(23) Exceller, a million-dollar racehorse who was inducted into the National Racing Museum’s Hall of Fame, was killed at a Swedish slaughterhouse.(24)

The United States has a multimillion-dollar horsemeat export business and slaughters tens of thousands of horses every year.(25,26) Although horsemeat is not consumed in the United States, it is eaten in Europe and Asia, and more than 1,000 tons of it is sold to U.S. zoos in order to feed animals there.(27) One Colorado State University study found that of 1,348 horses sent to slaughter, 58 were known to be former racehorses.(28)

There are three equine slaughterhouses left in the U.S., two in Texas and one in Illinois, so most horses who are sent to those facilities from other states are forced to endure days of transport in cramped trailers.(29) Usually, there is no access to water or food, and injuries are common: A University of California, Davis, study of 306 horses destined for slaughter found that 60 of them sustained injuries during transport.(30) While veterinarians recommend that horses be offloaded for food and water every four hours while traveling, the U.S. Department of Agriculture allows horses to be shipped for 28 hours without a break.(31) Horses are subject to the same method of slaughter as cows, but since horses are generally not accustomed to being herded, they tend to thrash about in order to avoid the pneumatic gun that is supposed to render them unconscious before their throats are cut.(32)

What You Can Do

In a commentary on the racing industry, a reporter for the Philadelphia Daily News remarked, “It is not something they talk about much in their advertising, but horses die in this sport all the time—every day, every single day.”(33) Help phase out this exploitative “sport”: Refuse to patronize existing tracks, work to ensure that racing regulations are reformed and enforced, lobby against the construction of new tracks, and educate your friends and family members about the tragic lives that racehorses lead.

(courtesy of Peta.org)

References
1) Ted Miller, “Six Recent Horse Deaths at Emerald Downs Spark Concern,” Seattle Post-Intelligencer 8 May 2001.
2) Bill Finley, “Sadly, No Way to Stop Deaths,” New York Daily News 10 Jun. 1993.
3) Sherry Ross, “Fans Are Buying In,” Daily News 1 Jun. 2003.
4) “The Odds Are You’ll Lose: Owning a Racehorse,” Financial Times 1 Feb. 2003.
5) Glenn Robertson Smith, “Why Racehorses Are Cracking Up,” The Age (Australia) 15 Nov. 2002.
6) Miller.
7) Tim Reynolds, “Technology Can’t Prevent Horse Injuries,” The Lexington Herald-Leader 30 Aug. 2001.
8) Andrew Beyer, “A Beyer’s Guide for Racehorses,” The Washington Post 3 Jun. 2003.
9) William C. Rhoden, “An Unknown Filly Dies, and the Crowd Just Shrugs,” The New York Times 25 May 2006.
10) Rhoden.
11) Reynolds.
12) John Scheinman, “Horses, Drugs Are Racing’s Daily Double; No Uniform Policy in Industry,” The Washington Post 27 Apr. 2003.
13) Janet Patton, “HBPA Proposes Uniform Policy on Drugs in Racing; Horsemen’s Group Targets Maze of State Rules,” The Lexington Herald-Leader 17 Oct. 2001.
14) Max Watman, “So Far, So Good for Barbaro,” The New York Sun 21 May 2006.
15) Scheinman.
16) Peat Bee, “Cut the Poppycock and Treat Drugs With Horse Sense,” The Guardian 13 Jan. 2003.
17) Alex Straus, “Dark Horses,” Maxim May 2002.
18) Tom Keyser, “Gill Is Still Permitted to Stable, Race Horses at Pimlico, Laurel,” The Baltimore Sun 6 Apr. 2003.
19) “Trainer, Vet Charged in Trotter’s Death,” Associated Press, 22 Apr. 2001.
20) Straus.
21) Skip Hollandsworth, “The Killing of Alydar,” Texas Monthly Jun. 2001.
22) Straus.
23) Barbara Bayer, “1986 Kentucky Derby Winner Ferdinand Believed to Have Been Slaughtered in Japan,” The Blood-Horse Magazine 26 Jul. 2003.
24) Allen G. Breed, “And What of the Spent Racehorse?” Associated Press, 25 Nov. 1999.
25) Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, “Horsemeat Exports—Value,” 2004.
26) Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, “Horsemeat Slaughtered/Prod Animals (Head),” 2005.
27) Josh Harkinson, “Horse Flesh: Texas Struggles With What to Do With Its Overabundance of Equus Caballus While Europeans Wait With Open Mouths,” Houston Press 13 Apr. 2006.
28) K. McGee et al., “Characterizations of Horses at Auctions and in Slaughter Plants,” Colorado State University Department of Animal Sciences, 2001.
29) Todd J. Gillman, “Judge Won’t Stop Slaughterhouses; Appeal Weighed,” The Dallas Morning News 14 Mar. 2006.
30) C.L. Stull, “Responses of Horses to Trailer Design, Duration, and Floor Area During Commercial Transportation to Slaughter,” Journal of Animal Science 77 (1999): 2925-33.
31) Harkinson.
32) Kris Axtman, “Horse-Meat Sales Stir Texas Controversy,” Christian Science Monitor 28 Apr. 2003.33) Rich Hofmann, “Racing Brings Up the Rear in Safety,” Philadelphia Daily News 23 May 2006.