Shochet: Redefining The Meaning of Ritual Slaughter

Kenneth Green

A new definition of ritual slaughter. Blood, like death, has taken on an ubiquitous quality for a society fed daily on mass killings, rampage and suicide bombings. Greasy newsy shots of blood splatter, preferably accompanied with tidbits of torn organs titillate our dulled pallets. Media programming encourages this blood lust traditionally showing only stereotypical grotesque facial snippets of "crazies" in post arrest photo arrays. Most disturbing are those deemed normal later identified as serial killers lurking in backwater neighborhoods. This novel takes a different approach. It explores the devolution of an individual, from seemingly upwardly mobile middle class origins who becomes driven into a fascination with Kabbalistic occultism until misanthropy finds an outlet in a lust for human sacrifice. He is most creative when his hands are covered with the viscera and dark matter torn from those offenders failing to understand the hopelessness of an existence without purpose. Like a Mayan priest the bursting gushes of blood put him in touch with an absented universal force. Albert Camus is paraphrased about a character asking "should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee?" Jason, our hero, would respond, no, but I wouldn't mind seeing someone's guts first simply as revenge for the forced absurdity of daily life.