Don't let the Mr. Cool shades or the no-nonsense tusks fool you; this hog is so meek he squeaks. Combining the self-effacement of a fine English butler with the self-loathing of a good ol' pig from the States, he redefines obsequious for a new generation yearning for less to believe in.
Here, clasping his hands in barely suppressed delight, he welcomes you to the establishment that bears his (or, well, his breath's) name.
He's just so happy to have you. Be had by you. Whatever. Either way, acting as your servile host is his deepest pleasure, that which allows him to fulfill his destiny. Like others of his kind, he was born to die.
He is a paradox, though a familiar one, to be sure. In denying himself, he claims himself. By erasing his own identity and proclaiming his subservience, he is clarified and raised up.
And if unctuous hog'spitality can intensify his suffering, then bring it on.