That's MUTTON, Baby!

As I strolled through my 'hood on the way to the internet cafe Monday afternoon, I detected something a little out of place: sheep peering down from second- and third-floor balconies, frantically bleating at each other and anyone else who'd listen. I wasn't too surprised, given that I knew Aid Al Adha was comin' up soon. People had simply purchased their sheep ahead of time -- "The all new bleating sheep-o-matic! Get yours NOW! While stocks last!" Having no gardens in which to tether their temporary pets until Wednesday, the logical thing to do is put them on the balcony, preventing runaways or thefts. Right?

I couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor sheep. You could tell they knew what was in store for them. You could hear it in their voices. "Baaaaaa-i'm-gonna-die-i'm-gonna-die-oh-NOOO-i'm-gonna-die-aaaaahhhhh." Their defeatist tones and pessimistic words were really a sad thing to witness. Of course, you knew there was always gonna be the one dumb sheep, the one going "Baaaa-i've-never-been-on-a-balcony-before-hey-the-view-is-pretty-nice-from-up-here-and-they're-feeding-me-real-good-lately-what's-WRONG-with-you-guys?-aaaaaahhhhh."

Then on Wednesday morning, I awoke to the unmistakable sounds of sheep death and gangsta rap. Each family was slaughtering its sheep, giving props to Allah-and-His-homey and the Eastsiiiiiiddddee, yo. Stepping out of my house later that afternoon, I couldn't help but notice the quiet that had fallen around the neighborhood. That, and the unmistakable smell of July the 4th. Pit barbeques every which way I looked. Yummmmmmm.

Why is it, no matter where you are in the world, all the really big holidays are centered around meat? Thanksgiving and Christmas? Turkey. Easter? Ham. July 4th? Burgers and ribs. Aid Al Adha? Mutton. Sure, you could always argue that these holidays are about God and independence, and not about the meat, but who are you kidding? Christmas AIN'T Christmas without turkey. Chicken couscous just DON'T cut it. Trust me on that.

Word up to Allah, the MastaPimp, and His homeboy Mohammed. Mutton rocks.