Congratulations Marino Wool Baron!

There’s a surprisingly large amount of horrible shit that goes into making wool.  From its production to its harvesting to its carding, wool is a hotbed of human rights abuses.  It’s no surprise that liberal white people have recently turned their eye upon reforming the wool markets of the world to make them more feminist.

You’re not like that.  You’re not interested in making the world a better place for women, or really for wool producers at all.  But you’re also not interested in relying on people to make wool.

So instead of paying people to shear sheep, card wool and process refining wool-product so that it can be used for textile production, you fuck sheep.

You fuck sheep so violently, so horribly that their wool falls out from the trauma.  The fear of sustained rape by you also makes these sheep excellent workers.  They process the wool, spin it into thread and ship it out to market, all without opposable thumbs.  The prospect of sustained violation by you is that terrifying.

You rape them anyway, just to make sure they still know who’s boss.

All this wool eventually goes on to REI, where it’s made into the finest sweaters, the smartest of wool socks and the best damn scarves money can buy.

Today, a reporter will come to your door asking if she can ask you about, as she puts it, “a wool empire founded on a basis of terrifying rape and sexual abuse.”  In response, you’ll invite her into your home, where the sheep will wait.  You’ll let her sit down, settle in, and then announce to the household why she has come here.

You’ll present it to your sheep as an opportunity to earn their freedom.  They can ally themselves with this woman, this savior, and fight against you to find some sort of freedom, some sort of dignity.  They can change their lives.

But in doing so, they’ll have to oppose you.  And should they fail, terrible things will come to pass.

A long pause will ensue as the sheep weigh their options.  None of them will move against you.

“I thought as much,” you’ll murmur.  Then you’ll point at her and speak one word, a word in the tongue of the sheep.

They will fall upon her without baahing.  The only sound will be her screams, brief and muffled as they are.  When they are finished the only color will be red on the sheep’s wool.

Congratulations Marino Wool Baron!