Look into the eyes of horror! (The one that isn't winking, at least.)
Our paunchy pig's words could more accurately be rendered: "Never trust your BBQ to a non-cannibal."
This villain reminds us of no one so much as the Rosie's Vermont Beef Jerky bull, one of the first Judases we ever featured.
Like Rosie's bull, this monster is proud of his depredations. Having gorged himself on his fellows, he doesn't hide his face. No, he pats his pork belly, happy to be identified by his aberrant morals.
And after a lifetime of cramming his own kind down his throat, what then? There is nothing left but ritual suicide, to atone for his sins. Or perhaps not to atone for them, but instead to underscore that atonement is, at the last, impossible.
That we are meant to see him as a reliable narrator, a figure worth trusting, throws the whole enterprise into question. No one could repudiate his own authority more emphatically, more hideously, than Big Belly.