Turns out a bunch of bull-hugging activists are ramping up their protests of the Spanish bullfighting tradition, aiming to abolish it altogether. (You ever try hugging a 1 ton mass of bovine muscle? Not advisable.) Having organized countless rallies at bullfighting strongholds like Madrid, Basque Country’s Bilbao, and Seville, members of the Andalusian Collective Against Animal Mistreatment have set their sights on the coastal town of Málaga for the first time ever. Clearly the collective’s president is on a mission, and he’s packing enough hot air for the whole platoon:

“This is not a tradition to maintain, but to eradicate,” says Moreno Abolafio. “We must cast away the cliché of Spain represented by a man dressed as a bullfighter and a woman as a flamenco dancer.”

(That’s like saying America needs to cast away its representation via Paul Bunyan and Barbie.) Since we’d rather not touch the convoluted topic of bullfighting’s cruelty to animals with a ten-foot pole, we’d like to point out that these clichés are what draw oodles of tourists to the south of Spain every year.

It sure as hell ain’t the dry heat. But for people who’ve legitimately traveled or, you know, cracked open a book, the country is about more than these idiot-enchanting icons. In other words, presidente, don’t hate the player—hate the game. Your sworn enemy, the editor-in-chief, has grasped the sad reality of this tradition by (aptly) comparing it to another controversial institution:

Asked about the growing debate in Spain, Ruiz Villasuso says that “bullfights are like the Church; they will be here for ever. The law says bullfights are a right of the Spanish aficionado.”

Already we can hear the gears turning in some Southern senator’s head: won’t be long before U.S. law says being a drunken, redneck asshole is a right of the NASCAR fan.