Ensconced within the classical tradition, the rib cook-off can at last be seen as the honorable institution it has ever been.
The pig in his cerulean toga and his laurel wreath signifying high birth and virtuous deeds readies to open the games and make merry.
Friends, Nevadans, countrymen, lend me your ears;Blah blah blah. Yeah, that's all very artsy-fartsy and everything, but maybe you should just listen to the pigs and start eating.
I come to eat this here pig, not to praise him.
The evil that pigs do lives after them;
The good is oft consumed along with their flesh;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was delicious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
Civilization depends on obeying the pigs' wishes.
It always has.