The pig had a dream. Unless you're three weeks old, you already know what the pig's dream was. The pig's dream was to get eaten. If he could bob around on an inner tube for a while beforehand, that would be gravy.
So, the pig did what any pig with a purpose would do: He dedicated himself to the quest for culinary knowledge, enrolled in a pig-fattening class, and got himself fitted for a pair of swim fins.
All the pieces were falling into place. As he drifted off to sleep every night, he warmed himself with thoughts of his future, a future that offered itself to him like a big old plate of pig meat all dripping with, you know, "juice."
And after all that work… nothing happened. The pig floated from one end of the pond to the other, and no one so much as stabbed him with a fork.
Now, the average pig would have been so discouraged he might have given up completely on the idea of being killed and eaten in a superfluous festival of carnivory. But this pig was no average sacrifice.
He didn't quit.
No, he redoubled his efforts.
He got himself an advanced degree in Dying Studies and tried again.
He'd give them something to shoot for. (And, hell, maybe even something to shoot at. He wasn't going to rule out anything!)
Slathering himself with BBQ 30 (ha ha?), he mounted his inner tube and took to the pond once more. Who could resist such an educated pig? He had achieved the pinnacle of academic excellence! He had finally become somebody. Just in time to become nobody.
(Coincidentally—we can only assume—the 2011 Pigs on the Pond event was designed to raise money for schools.)