“Dead man walking,” a phrase attributed to convicts on death row as they walk to their execution. Apparently this was often shouted out by prison guards to clear the passageway when a prisoner took his final stroll to the electric chair, or whatever form of execution was “en vogue” at any particular prison.

Do you feel that way now when you see a jabbed sheep dawdling down the street? Or are you basically in a form of denial when faced with friends and loved ones who have been poked once, or multiple times, and figure there is simply no going back. The deed is done, the die is cast, c’est la vie? Whatever will be will be, and maybe it won’t be so bad?

I am not sure what to think about this in my own personal life. I had a commenter on my substack present this dilemma rather coarsely: “They made their bed, they should lie in it. If they die, they die” (I am paraphrasing). I can see this attitude being rather common in a very general way, and I can’t say I don’t feel the same way on a surface level when confronting angry and bitter sheep who have wished upon me the same sentiment. But do I feel that way with loved ones and friends? In a word, no.