A feather-wielding mountain man. A blushing pig. It could only mean barbecue. (Not to mention the first pig upskirt shot in Suicide Food history!)
Do you notice—again!—that the woman/sow is seamlessly equated with a piece of meat? Delighting her, courting her—tickling her ribs—is the same thing as tickling her... you know, ribs. Her charred and grilled bones. It's like saying you've won the pig's heart and then displaying... you know, her dripping heart.
One is excused for wondering at the relationships avid barbecuers maintain in "real" life. Do they slather their wives in sauce before they kiss them good-night? (This is purely rhetorical. We concede that they almost definitely do not.)
What you miss by confining yourself to the visual element of the Rib Ticklers' logo is the sound from their website. The sound conveys a far richer experience of putridity. Allow us to guide you through it:
First, the logo appears, accompanied by a vicious sizzle. Then, a beat, followed by a girlish giggle. You see? The pig wants to be grilled! Slap her on the barbecue and she giggles for more. Suicide Food 101.
(Thanks to Dr. Mrs. Suicidefood for the referral.)