OH, if life were as easy in Honolulu as it is in Beverly Hills. Here we struggle with major issues like seaside swimming pools, smoking in bars and banning fireworks, while the Beverly Hills City Council struggles to regulate furs. Fur flies in
Beverly HillsFurs, as in the pelts of dead animals, that some denizens of the trendiest spot on earth like to drape over their shoulders.
There are probably only five fur-wearing residents of Honolulu. Maybe only four. There's a large man who suns on Waikiki Beach who either wears a fur coat or is exceptionally hairy.
In other words, furs aren't a big deal here. But they are in Beverly Hills. The subject of furs causes much soul-searching in human beings, more soul-searching than, say, eating a cheeseburger. I'm not sure why. Both products come from dead animals. I think it's because hamburger comes from ugly animals and furs come from cute ones.
All animals are not created equal. (That's why you see many "Save the Porpoises" groups but very few "Save the Canned Tuna" groups. In fact, tuna fishermen are banned from killing porpoises while they are in the process of killing tuna, an inconsistency often discussed when groups of disgruntled tuna get together.)
Cows are really, really ugly so, not only are their hides worn by humans, but their innards are the main entree in insensitively named items as "Happy Meals" that are consumed by children. Cow hide is called "leather" and there is tons of it in Beverly Hills, especially on certain street corners.
And, no one in Beverly Hills cares. They only care about fur, because fur comes from fuzzy, huggable little varmints.
Varmint-lovers are disgusted that anyone would skin one of the little rascals and parade around in its pelt. They have launched a campaign to force Beverly Hills dealers to put labels on fur pieces that say: "Consumer Notice: This product is made with fur from animals that may have been killed by electrocution, gassing, neck breaking, poisoning, clubbing, stomping or drowning and may have been trapped in steel-jaw leg-hold traps."
Obviously, this is silly and annoying, but the Beverly Hills City Council, apparently having nothing else better to do (the Rodeo Drive Natatorium proposal died in committee) is taking it seriously. It has actually scheduled a $60,000 special election to determine if Beverly Hills should be officially recognized as the silliest place on earth. Actually, the vote would determine whether or not to make the warning tags mandatory, but the effect would be the same.
The head of the Southern California Fur Association thinks the whole thing is stupid.
"Is the waiter in the restaurant able to give you the information about what bait was used to catch the fish you're eating?" he asked, according to news reports.
Heck, I'd be happy if the waiter in a restaurant could tell me where my toast has been for the past half hour, but that's another matter. To answer the man's question, no, most waiters probably think your tuna was caught with porpoise chunks.
So if this measure passes, not only will merchants have to attach the gaudy little cards to the furs, but special Fur Enforcement Police apparently will be dispatched to frisk old ladies on the sidewalk to see if their raccoon stoles carry the official death certificate.
I have been known to good-naturedly tease our City Council representatives from time to time, but compared to the Beverly Hills Council, our lawmakers come off looking positively Solomon-like. Of course, now that I've said that, one of them will probably propose pasting "Humanely Harvested" labels on macadamia nuts.
Charles Memminger, winner of
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
awards in 1994 and 1992, writes "Honolulu Lite"
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Write to him at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin,
P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802
or send E-mail to charley@nomayo.com or
71224.113@compuserve.com.
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