Walking foodstuff as Captain of Industry. It's a character whose time has come. Again. This fine fellow, this stout-hearted and deliciously imperious chap, can buy and sell you. It is he who commands the armies of finance, the platoons of capital. It is his banner beneath which march the functionaries, the pocketed politicians, the bought-and-paid-for millions.
His striped trousers swell with importance. His waistcoat strains to contain his significant bulk. His monocle focuses his entire personhood into a single beam of excellence.
Forget his stock certificates. Pay no attention to the railroads he owns. Ignore his Baltimore tenements.
As he puffs his Cuban cigar, redolent of monetary exuberance, he is, foremost, unequaled in sweetness, in tenderness, in juiciness. His ham is of a uniform size, and therein lies his true worth. He is economical through and through, and when you taste his taste, you will know. You will know that he is a Hall, Luhrs & Company hog. And you will know that flavor, that singular HL&Co. flavor, is the One Criterion.
That is what lowers him from his worldly pedestal and elevates him instead into the Brotherhood of Meat.
Addendum: Remember these guys? Same deal.
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