Sunday, September 7, 2008
It's down to the wire: what will kill this poor, crazy pig? Will it be his patented Explosion Hat®, or the hardworking men and women at the local slaughterhouse? (At this moment, the odds are explosion: 65%; slaughterhouse: 33%; stray bullet: 2%.)
Whatever happens, his remains will end up on the insatiable grill, and that's the name of the pig's game. He's not motivated by thoughts of cheating his butchers. For him, it's just about dying and winding up in someone's stomach. How he gets there is more a matter of concern for the touts and punters. Let the gamblers worry about the cause of death. The pig's got a final journey to prepare for.
And look at that crazy, tongue-wagging expression. Do you think the Swine-O-Mite pig cares how he meets his maker? No way! Not him!
(Now the newest odds are explosion: 70%; slaughterhouse: 28%; stray bullet: 2%.)
As long as he gets to die, and can soothe himself with the belief that he can thank his maker for the opportunity to experience an exquisite death—for so noble a cause as the thoroughly redundant exploits of yet another barbecue team—the pig has no complaints.
Addendum (9/09/08): As Dr. Schnauzer points out (see comments), the pig is an obvious homage to Kid Dyn-o-Mite himself, Jimmie Walker. Even as we apologize for missing this, we ask, "Jimmie Walker? Is he an actual cultural touchstone? Does his image scream 'barbecue team'?"