He's the cock of the walk, the Hallmark Poultry Processors Ltd. rooster is!
He's got the world by the horns. It's all laid out there in front of him, a land covered in gold dust. All he's got to do is bend down and scoop it up! No wonder he's whistling a tune as he moseys along.
Yes sir, life is good. He's got a hat, a bandanna, even a holstered six-shooter! Matter of fact, the only things he doesn't have are self-respect and the will to live, but if you can't buy 'em down to the Woolworth's, he's not interested. And so he'll go on whistling his tune right up until the second the axe falls on his humble, despairing neck.
Again we wonder what has become of the masculine icons of the past. A cowboy should be out on the range cursing at cattle and drinking campfire coffee, not lollygagging and waiting for some fellas in suits to gun him down. It just ain't right. But in Suicidefoodistan, nothing's right. Everything's for sale and nothing's worth a damn.
(Thanks to Dr. Becci for the referral and to Dr. halv99 for the photo.)
Addendum: Is this Hallmark company related to this Hallmark company? If so, they've got quite a way with a logo!