We have now seen everything: 'Roid Rage as appetite stimulant. 1. See hyper-muscular pig. 2. Crave pork. It's practically mathematical in its simplicity!
Our body worshipping pig does take the insanity of suicidefoodism to new, absurd heights. Any old flabby pig or cow can gladly offer himself up to the grill—an undeniable honor!—but this one? This one has devoted years of his life to transforming himself into the perfect edible specimen of porcinity. The delts, the pecs, the obliques—pumping himself up has been his obvious obsession. He's buff and he's proud! Proud and... let's just say it: he's furious. The steroids have taken their toll.
The pop-eye, the grimace—this guy's beyond help. His identity is defined by his desirability as a food object. He taunts us with the trophies he's won, flaunting his superior texture and moisture content, the way the sauce complements his flavor. "Suck it, you weaklings! I am chiseled and cut! Grab a rib and start eating!"
Muscle Pig has certainly set a new standard of depravity.