BBQ Pirates

We thought we had already seen every hypermacho stock character emasculated by the forces of suicidefoodism.

The cowboy, the biker, the rocker, the superhero, the boxer, the cop. Each of these has had its turn in the sickly limelight of animal oppression. Each has glady and freely worn the mantle of the surrenderer. Each of them has attempted to chip away at the temple of self-respect, the fundamental truth that all living things crave life.

So imagine our surprise when we discovered another manly character type debased and defanged: the pirate!

In our legends, the pirate is a paragon of masculinity: fierce, bound to a (crooked) code of honor, living in a world without women. Nothing soft—beyond the love of well-wrought shiny things—finds a place in the pirate lifestyle.

In the legends of the suicidefoodists, however, pirates are patsies. They neither struggle physically against a system that would enslave them, nor repudiate it within the bubble of rhetoric. No! They participate. They roll over. Where are the swaggering antiheroes of yesteryear?

They are hobbled and sissified. They even eat meat with a spoon!