Joe Jarvis

Andrew Butler is killing the activist stereotype. PETA members, wearing prison uniforms and monkey masks, squat in rows of chicken-wire cages outside the March of Dimes' Loop headquarters, beneath the banner "Stop Cruel Animal Tests. marchofcrimes.com." Butler and his 5-year-old daughter Shanti hand out pamphlets to chuckling passersby.

And that's it: no ski-masked militants dumping pails of blood on executives' heads. Even the pamphlets are mild; rather than PETA's usual photographic fare of brained baby seals, we have sad monkeys and a forlorn kitten.

This does not sit well with the protest's loyal audience, smokers idling away the last of lunch break. "They should be throwing bananas, or-- or rats," one man offers. The passenger in a carpentry van instructs the protestors, "You should be jumping up and down and ripping each other's eyes out." Security swarms Butler, demanding explanations and hollering about property documents over walkie-talkies, but Butler quickly accommodates, moving the protest away from the main entrance. The guards and officials stare at their shoes and pucker their lips, as if digging for an excuse to prolong the confrontation. Chicago's finest shows up, but only to offer Butler more time than he needs for the protest and insist Shanti stay away of the curb, due to our city's cabbies' skilled driving. A smoker irritated at the lack of action snaps, "I kind of like it that Jergen's lotion doesn't give me a rash because it's tested on a fucking rat."

Nobody's getting what they want. Except PETA.

(2002-08-07)

Also by Joe Jarvis

IGNORANCE IS BLISS
Just inside the door of the Autonomous Zone—Chicago's haven for anti-authoritarian vegan polymarist cycling activists—a pugnacious clown idles away the time before he goes on stage by giving you shit for being so bourgeois as to buy Fluevogs and, perhaps only half-jokingly, trying to pass himself off as the doorperson to pocket the admission for tonight's Media Mayhem variety show.
(2002-08-01)

NONFICTION REVIEW
Peter Conrad introduces "The Hitchcock Murders" as a "grateful fan letter" to the legendary director after depicting his first viewing of "Psycho" as the experience in which he truly lost his virginity. What follows is an interesting mix of Hitchcock anecdotes, facts and steely analysis.
(2001-11-15)

FICTION REVIEW

(2001-10-18)

NOT MILK?
The kids receive Milk Sucker trading cards, much like those halcyon Garbage Pail Kids, but carrying PETA's agenda: Pimply Patty, Windy Wanda and friends suffer from side-effects of dairy consumption. The cards are a huge hit, although the kids seem decidedly less enthused over the other proferred material, such as pamphlets documenting dairy-industry horrors, complete with photographs of hormone-riddled cows, udders swollen to the ground.
(2001-03-01)

REPAIR WORK
(2001-02-08)

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