No sir, don't eat pork either. And I LOVED ham and bacon but stopped eating it. I'm sure your Boston butt was delicious too and must've smelled heavenly.
My east Tennessee granddaddy owned a slaughterhouse (right over the Smokies from you) and I grew up hearing my very religious momma say, "that's what gawd put 'em here for." She must've had a tinge of guilt about killin' 'em. And I grew up on a small 75 acre farm there where my pet calves would disappear. When my brother, sister, and I figured out what'd happened to them, we stopped eating red meat. It was as if they'd sent our dogs out for slaughter. I later resumed my heavier carnivore ways in my twenties but then stopped again for various reasons: compassion, my own health's sake and that of the environment's.
I'm one of those overly sensitive snowflakes. 
But to each, his own.
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