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No, it's worse. We become the surrogate of the hog's master and he our slave. (It's a relationship so dysfunctional, so sordid, that it makes the love affair of these two seem almost Doris Day-and-David Nivenish.) Merely by viewing the image, we take part in a reprehensible drama.
The white-hot flames tease and coax, the heat sears the pig's flesh, and still—still!—he shoots us a look of pure, giddy rapture. We haven't seen a pig with such an unveiled, crazy desire to suffer for a long time.
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There, to the left, is the reality behind the fantasy, the dirt beneath the glitz. Runaways, thrill-seekers, hedonists, take note. This could be your fate. This is what the pig craved, of course, and yet... And yet, the hands grasping and carving and knifing and taking! The exploitation inherent in the power play is too much. We try not to judge (just play along), to approach everyone's quirks and kinks with open mind and open heart, but we are unequal to the task when it comes to this sex- and death-positive pig.
On a different note, what is with Europe and her former (non-U.S.A.) colonies? (The Hog Master resides somewhere in the UK.) Who would have thought that America would fail to match them in brutality? When this was posted, the only 5-noose examples of suicide food were from beyond our shores.
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Addendum (6/30/11): The mastered hog is back, this time being mastered by Juicy Pig Concessions.
2 comments:
except here there is no "safe word"...
Hog Master's? Does this indicate possession? Hog Master's what? Or, is it a contraction of, say, Hog Master is? Or, Hog master has? Either way, possessive or contraction, we are left with an incomplete phrase. These guys aren't just barbaric, they're illiterate. Be afraid.
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