While chicken eggs aren't alive, nor are the supermarket versions the preliving form of some autonomous individual, still, this is troubling. For eggs—no matter their provenance—represent life. Beginnings. Possibility. The finite, precious, and potent force within us all.
But here, they're just props for an advertisement for cooking spray. And what little regard they have for themselves! They exist solely to be consumed. Or destroyed. Either way, they don't care. Life is cheap for eggs. They'll kill themselves out of spite if you refuse to eat them the right way.
Can you make out what the ringleader is saying? Her words pack the sting, the gleeful hostility, of a ransom note:
Cook me in PAM® or my friends will throw themselves at your house!Don't you see? Everything craves death. Actual animals do. Their trimmed flesh and extracted organs do. And now we learn that eggs do as well. Everything, including eggs, longs for the sweet oblivion of eternity.
It even fills their dreams.
(Thanks to Dr. Natassja for the PAM referral and photo, and to Dr. Zena for the "dreaming billboard" referral.)