This sassy sow wants to take us on a journey.
Begin with the bedrock desire of all suicide food: to be killed and eaten. Oh, humble pleasures! And oh—if only that's all she wanted!
How we wish the world were always so simple, so unconflicted, in its sickness.
But look! She's taking it further.
Look at the raised-hocks posture, the beckoning gleam in her eye. She wants more than death and dissolution. She wants to be violated and then killed and eaten. It's the epitome of amoral living, a pathological disconnection from integrity, from the honoring of the self.
And, really now: does it make you think of buying gifts for your grandparents?
(Thanks to Dr. Becci for the referral.)