With his imposing physique, dapper tattoo, and the stylin', yellow eyes of jaundice (or some other liver disorder), he should be having the time of his life.
Instead of standing up to his persecutors, he stands up for them.
It's a syndrome we've seen so many times before (for instance, here and here), that it has earned itself a five-dollar name: the Submissive Dominant.
Everything is laid out perfectly in the tagline to the right of Big
Good?! He should find it abominable! It would drive a decent pig to overturn the grills and free the prisoners packed into the Bastilles of the barbecuing aristocracy! He could do it—he could upend the whole system that's built on his sturdy back. The Submissive Dominant could wield the cleansing fire of justice. He could bend the world to his will.
But BM just winks, flexes his impotent biceps, and simmers in the disgrace that has seeped into the cavity where his soul once dwelt.