It's been so long since our first analysis of suicidefood dog food—more than a year and a half ago—that we had almost forgotten just how unsettling it is.
This cow here, she of the green tripe, looks almost… sedated? (Drugged? Like she's been grazing on the "wire grass," as the kids say?)
While we cannot rule out the possibility that she's been goofed up, we interpret her demeanor as an overabundance of good-natured apathy. This is the expression one wears when one believes all resistance—all objection—is fruitless. When one has concluded that the fundamental state of the universe is senselessness, that life is propped up by irony. "Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?" the cow seems to say. "So do like I do and just sit back and enjoy the ride."
Yes, of course. Enjoy it! View the world with wry detachment as your stomach (one of the first three chambers, typically) is crammed into a can, along with some of what you'd recently eaten, is then shipped around the country, and, finally, is fed to some dog somewhere.
What are you gonna do?
(Thanks to Dr. Robert for the referral.)