We have no idea what's going on.
We've got the vestige of a pig, done up like a delicious slice of cowboy, in a mustache and hat, with coiled lariat dangling from his… hand… area.
We've got the whole thing labeled fabulous, an adjective not traditionally associated with rugged outdoorsy types.
We haven't been this confused since the strange case of Mort the He-Cow.
Or is that the whole point? As in this sign, ripe with similarly conflicting stereotypes of traditional sexuality, the pork's sheer, stubborn absurdity is an attempt to overwhelm our sense of reason and order.
Pork? Equally at home singing along to a Broadway show and roaming the rolling prairie? Wearing a campy mustache? Brandishing a lasso? Enjoying the masculine solitude of life on the ranch? Proclaiming his fitness for your consumption?
Must… retain… sanity.