Taking a break from a day of exercise, errands, and watching the women’s college world series to note this surprise from an article about Clint Eastwood in this morning’s Times:
People ask him to autograph rifles, but Eastwood is no Charlton Heston. A vegan, he was distressed to hear Hillary Rodham Clinton boast recently about bagging a bird. “I was thinking: ‘The poor duck, what the hell did she do that for?’ I don’t go for hunting. I just don’t like killing creatures. Unless they’re trying to kill me. Then that would be fine.”
I had no idea — but I am delighted to discover — that the former mayor of my home town (for whom I did not vote) was a fellow vegan. PCRM, Farm Sanctuary or PETA need to sign Clint up pronto. I’m already imagining some terrific PSAs.
On a only distantly related note, I saw a bear on my trail run this morning; there are still a few left in the San Gabriels, but it is always a spine-tingling delight to come flying around a curve and see one of these magnificent creatures just yards away. It, uh, made my day.
PETA couldn’t use Eastwood, he doesn’t look good enough naked.
From the premise that Clint doesn’t cotton to shooting animals for fun, to the conclusion that he’s a vegan. That’s a bit of a stretch, ain’t it?
Lester, read closely — I “bolded” the vegan claim made by the Times. Given the syntax, the implication is that Eastwood’s veganism informs his views of hunting; the reporter is not inferring veganism from the hunting remarks.
Heh, “The good, the bad, and the ugly” (along with his other spaghetti westerns) are among my favorite movies!
Obviously there’s no meatballs with the spaghetti. BWAAAAAAHHHH!!!