When these animals say they're blessed to be barbecued, they are blessed to be barbecued. It's like heaven opened up early and stayed open late to sanctify Suicidefoodism, mankind's foremost grill-and-kill religion. The pigheaded cherubs appear with wings and trumpets to assure you of your righteousness. In front of a lava-orange backdrop of licking flames, they blow their fanfare and hover beatifically.
Okay, okay, so their faith is a little grisly. But many established religions have bloody myths and cruel histories. And Suicidefoodism does appear to borrow heavily from Christianity: the little angels, the grail (here transformed into a barbecue), and, most troubling of all, the Annunciation.
For what is the holy event that has summoned the Heavenly Host? Not a sacred birth! Oh, no! Far from it. It is one of uncounted profane deaths. Sacrifices to nothing so much as appetite and habit. Likewise, the grail, from which only the most pure could drink in Christian lore, is here nothing more than a place to cook dead animals. In other words, this is a religion, as we have long argued, built on a rickety rationale.
Addendum: And what of the motto floating serenely beneath the grail? Volo dulcis puteulanus, as far as we can figure, means "I want a sweet pit." A disappointing motto for a religion of such grand pretension.