Festival of Cruelty 4

It's been just over three months since our last foray into the pits of suicidefoodism's even darker side. We fear this pace is taking its toll on our sanity—three months is hardly long enough between visits. Even now, we still have the combat veteran's frayed nerves and thousand-yard stare.

But return to the bloody battlegrounds we must. We cannot leave our fallen comrades behind. Soon enough, we will re-immerse ourselves in the relative safety of suicidefoodism's bromides. But now is no time for rest. We haven't yet earned it.

Alhambra Abattoirs: The poor Alhambra pig endures a punishment right out of the excesses of Greek myth. Doomed to an eternity of humiliation, the pig bears on his broad back the Yellow Fool holding aloft a tray of meats made from all the pigs his mount wronged in life. He is perpetually slave to the Yellow Fool, forced to relive his shameful deeds again and again, every day anew.

Just look at the poor beast's face! Ask yourself why the advertisers didn't even attempt to tell the suicidefoodist lie: that the pig knows his place and enjoys what little his life has to offer. They preferred to wallow in the stark misery of the tableau.





Don's Specialty Meats: We've seen pigs (and other animals) in cauldrons before, but rarely with such ghastly realism. It's as though the people at Don's Specialty Meats want you to feel what this poor, long-suffering pig is going through. He's so hot, his shoulders are steaming! Note the bewilderment, the anguish on his face as he tries to hold back the tears. Do broken pigs taste better? Is this what they mean by "specialty"?






Dr. Bones Slow Cooked Championship Bar-B-Q: An image hateful in every way. It maligns all that is good in this world: the innocent, those dedicated to healing, our commitments to one another. Everything! An undead doctor demonstrates the most appalling bedside manner since Dr. Phibes.

We leave it to you to interpret this picture. Is the doctor planning on hastening his patient's departure from this world, in a sick, cleaver-assisted twist on mercy killing, or has he filled the IV bag with sodium pentobarbital? (Or would the resulting death be too painless?)

And again: why? Why does the appeal to anyone? Can you imagine walking down the street, seeing that awning, and saying, "By George! That looks like a friendly establishment! If they treat their customers with half the respect they afford their 'food' animals, we're in for a treat! The euthanasia drugs are on me!"



Frische Fischbrötchen: This being the festival of cruelty, we are at least spared the sportive fish hanging on a hook, acting out the whole thumbs-up, "life is good" charade. But perhaps the pendulum has swung too far in the opposite direction.

Is this any better? More honest, admittedly, but also a thousand times more gruesome. We can't help but imagine the fish's panicked agony, gasping, his eyes bulging with the realization that this is his ending, before he finally dies on a bun.








Two Fat Guys Bar-B-Q: Fat they may be, but if their cow and pig surrogates are any indication, they could more properly be called Two Vicious Meatheads. Is this how barbecue patrons see themselves? As snickering bullies forcing chickens—why is it always chickens?—to choose between death by burning and death by stabbing?

We can't be alone in finding these devils repugnant. They represent every impulse to dominate and destroy that humanity struggles with. They are also appetite suppressants of the first order!







"Cook a Little" Apron Designs: This is the apron to buy when the "Kiss Me, I'm a Sadist" design is on back-order.