New Mexico outlawed cockfighting on Monday in a victory for animal welfare groups, leaving Louisiana as the last state in the country where the controversial practice is legal.
"I am proud that New Mexico will now move beyond cockfighting and join the 48 states that have already banned this outdated practice," said Gov. Bill Richardson after signing the bill.
Cockfighting involves roosters with razors tied to their claws battling often to the death with spectators placing bets on the outcome of each contest.
Supporters argued cockfighting was an Hispanic tradition and that any ban would push it underground. Opponents said it was a clear-cut case of animal cruelty and that it encouraged illegal gambling.
The ban had the support of the influential New Mexico Conference of Catholic Bishops, which represents 600,000 New Mexicans.
"At this time we have to speak out because of our children," said Allen Sanchez, spokesman for the Conference of Catholic Bishops. "The church clearly defines that cruelty to animals is wrong."
Opponents of the ban, which goes into effect on July 1, called it a blow to Hispanic culture.
"We have a right to have game birds. It's part of our culture," said farmer David Lopez. "The law is just going to push cockfighting underground like it did for dog fighting."
The bill prohibits cockfighting in the 20 New Mexico counties where it wasn't already illegal.
State Sen. Phil Griego, a Democrat who opposed the ban, called it a "slippery slope."
"What's next? A ban on rodeos? Then hunting and fishing? Jesus never said cockfighting was a sin," he said during a hearing on the legislation.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Mud's March Member Spotlight
This month, we're taking a closer look at the life and times of a special member of Club Sub.
On December 25th, 1971, the proud parents (Jim and Joan) looked at their new bundle of joy, this "Happy Accident", this Christmas Miracle that could only have happened when the stars aligned properly and Oysters had been on sale at Almacs in March of that same year.
What joy, what exhiliration, what.....DISAPPOINTMENT. Jim had to sell his Glenn-Miller custom Harley. Joan had to deal with raising and feeding a new baby while dealing with the teenage malaise of another child that would end up being a freelance nuclear physicist.....And these United States, which were mired in an unpopular war overseas and an even more unpopular scandal taking seed in the White House-would never be the same.
As time wore on, Jim and Joan began to realize that their new son, the fruit of their aging loins, was very special. He was far more advanced intellectually than the other boys he hung around with (Fic, The Rat, That Guy, Daddy, Mud), which, although not earth-shattering, did not deter from the pride he instilled in Jim and Joan.
While not athletically gifted (his movements were awkward), no one could do more with what he had to work with, and he developed into an above-average athlete, excelling in baseball, basketball, and Wiffle ball (He holds the record for most home runs in one game at the Ward Memorial Stadium). However, despite his intellect and athelticism, he was plagued by an awkwardness that was difficult to overcome. This scourge took root in our boy and, despite the efforts of his friends, he simply could not shake it. His inevitable downward spiral had begun- a vast whirlpool, with one destination- being the Student Manager on a high school baseball team. His friends grew increasingly concerned. And then there were the ladies... Many, many ladies, coming and going like pages in a Day Planner, each resulting in a box checked off, and, like the events in said calendar, fading over the years until all he could remember were scant details- a familiar scent, or a birthmark, or lime-green jelly shoes and extra-long oversized sweatshirts, or a gigantic loose white belt and big Aqua Net hair. Something had to give. Friends initially thought that there would be a loud snap, and he would start collecting swords and wearing trenchcoats and visiting gun collectors and creating web sites geared towards people of mixed race.
But something strange happened. It came to pass thoughout his tumultuous High School years that he would come under the influence of the man we now call DaPrez, and his life's destination veered sharply, charting a new course toward confidence, self-esteem, heavy drinking, urinary problems, premature balding. A new spring in his step, a newly-discovered sharp tongue, a fearlessness that was taking hold in him like the fiery breath of Lucifer himself (later discovered to be a halitosis problem which was fixed by more frequest brushing and flossing). In the face of a certain future of becoming a hopeless geek, he went the opposite way- a geek, yes. But a geek with Hope, a geek with Dreams, a geek with a Destiny. There was no holding him back now. Driven by his inexhaustable power lust, he gave up basketball to pursue his dream- to become a trusted advisor in a semi-fictional organization. This new journey that our man embarked on has culmianted, now, at age 35, in his becoming the most feared war-time member of a Cabinet that is the most powerful in the world. His name? The Schemer. Our Secretary of State. A proud member of Club Sub's "Big Four".
And now you know....the REST of the story.
On December 25th, 1971, the proud parents (Jim and Joan) looked at their new bundle of joy, this "Happy Accident", this Christmas Miracle that could only have happened when the stars aligned properly and Oysters had been on sale at Almacs in March of that same year.
What joy, what exhiliration, what.....DISAPPOINTMENT. Jim had to sell his Glenn-Miller custom Harley. Joan had to deal with raising and feeding a new baby while dealing with the teenage malaise of another child that would end up being a freelance nuclear physicist.....And these United States, which were mired in an unpopular war overseas and an even more unpopular scandal taking seed in the White House-would never be the same.
As time wore on, Jim and Joan began to realize that their new son, the fruit of their aging loins, was very special. He was far more advanced intellectually than the other boys he hung around with (Fic, The Rat, That Guy, Daddy, Mud), which, although not earth-shattering, did not deter from the pride he instilled in Jim and Joan.
While not athletically gifted (his movements were awkward), no one could do more with what he had to work with, and he developed into an above-average athlete, excelling in baseball, basketball, and Wiffle ball (He holds the record for most home runs in one game at the Ward Memorial Stadium). However, despite his intellect and athelticism, he was plagued by an awkwardness that was difficult to overcome. This scourge took root in our boy and, despite the efforts of his friends, he simply could not shake it. His inevitable downward spiral had begun- a vast whirlpool, with one destination- being the Student Manager on a high school baseball team. His friends grew increasingly concerned. And then there were the ladies... Many, many ladies, coming and going like pages in a Day Planner, each resulting in a box checked off, and, like the events in said calendar, fading over the years until all he could remember were scant details- a familiar scent, or a birthmark, or lime-green jelly shoes and extra-long oversized sweatshirts, or a gigantic loose white belt and big Aqua Net hair. Something had to give. Friends initially thought that there would be a loud snap, and he would start collecting swords and wearing trenchcoats and visiting gun collectors and creating web sites geared towards people of mixed race.
But something strange happened. It came to pass thoughout his tumultuous High School years that he would come under the influence of the man we now call DaPrez, and his life's destination veered sharply, charting a new course toward confidence, self-esteem, heavy drinking, urinary problems, premature balding. A new spring in his step, a newly-discovered sharp tongue, a fearlessness that was taking hold in him like the fiery breath of Lucifer himself (later discovered to be a halitosis problem which was fixed by more frequest brushing and flossing). In the face of a certain future of becoming a hopeless geek, he went the opposite way- a geek, yes. But a geek with Hope, a geek with Dreams, a geek with a Destiny. There was no holding him back now. Driven by his inexhaustable power lust, he gave up basketball to pursue his dream- to become a trusted advisor in a semi-fictional organization. This new journey that our man embarked on has culmianted, now, at age 35, in his becoming the most feared war-time member of a Cabinet that is the most powerful in the world. His name? The Schemer. Our Secretary of State. A proud member of Club Sub's "Big Four".
And now you know....the REST of the story.
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