Let me choose my cancer

The French gorvernment declared its desire to ban pesticides from fences. It wants to prohibit their dispersion at less than ten metres from houses. We have then heard farmers (at the TV, he was from Toulouse for example) complaining about the millions of hectares lost… which would lead to the end of countless land farmers in France.

I could, therefore, hear a particularly eloquent member of the leading farmer representative organisation mourning the loss of arable land. Well, more precisely, what it is possible to pollute. He added that the villagers were also using pesticides at home by killing flies or when they “go to shit” (sic) so they would have to stop complaining about the lovely poisons sprayed by a fat redheaded farmer. Please, let me choose the pesticides that will cause my cancer myself. I don’t want Mr and Mrs Michu, filthy farmers around Toulouse, to impose them on me. Under what pretext could I accept the idea that toxic products are being sent to my house because sometimes I bomb a fly or a mosquito? And then let’s talk about toxicity. What I send in the face of “Mrs Six-legged Sucker” is probably not of the same kind (quantity, toxicity, recurrence…) as what the Michus throw at me whether I like it or not. Studies show that farmers are slowly killing themselves with these products, and they choose money over health. That choice must remain theirs. I’m not sure they should have this choice. What they spray on their crops go without any doubt in our meals at the end.

In short, if farmers want to poison themselves, let them do it in their homes, cellars or garages.