It's a brand-new category of perplexing suicidefoodist imagery. Or rather, we have only recently been made aware of it. It offers us fresh worlds of puzzlement. For these are not animals jockeying for a spot on our plates. No, their sites are a little lower. Still, while their ambitions are not so grand, their passions burn just as bright.
We admire these lowly creatures. Just think about it: so eager to start at the bottom—beneath the bottom!—they will even sign up to become food for food! In the world of suicide food, the instinct to be eaten is as strong as the desire to live is among actual animals. And these things don't care who or what eats them, as long as their death is assured.
This topic also introduces us to the single most freaky-deaky image we've uncovered so far, possibly the freaky-deakiest thing in the entire suicide food canon. It took all of our willpower to resist leading with this one, but our dedication to craft won out. So now, to forever scar your psyches and corrode your souls with infinite doubt in the universe's fundamental goodness, we give you… the buxom bait-leech.
What dreams foul the slumber of the suicidefoodists? What demons drive them? What could account for this abomination, this lipsticked, buttocked leech destined to be man's food-once-removed? What to make of quote-sweetest-unquote? Are we being reminded that leeches aren't for us to consume directly? Is the implication that the sexy bloodsucker is so "sweet" she'll really "take care of us," if you know what they mean? (Nudge, nudge.)
Where is the mind strong enough to withstand such questions?
(Thanks to Dr. Nadia for the vending machine photo and to Dr. Ribozlifozelek for the "Live Bait Sold Here" photo.)