Sunday, November 30, 2008

Crazy Jerry's Cotton Pickin' Chicken Dippin' Wing Sauce

Crazy Jerry is crazy, after all, so it is quite possible that this illustration represents nothing more than a rich and tangy hallucination.

In it, we see Crazy Jerry (remember: he's crazy), perched on the diving board, about to dip himself into the deep end of a swimming pool filled with countless gallons of "wing sauce." The sun blazes like an electric porcupine, our weirdo grins and goggles, and all is right (that is, nuts) with the world.

(Sure, it's Crazy Jerry—motto: "I am crazy!"—but is he actually wearing a bowtie with his swimming trunks? Couldn't be. Not even the insanest bird on Earth would do something that crazy!)

We can't help but admire the zeal with which Crazy Jerry (still crazy) has embraced his delusion. His death-obsessed fantasy life is the only thing that keeps him going.

After all, an imaginary swimming pool full of "wing sauce" is better than no swimming pool full of "wing sauce" at all.

Think about it.

(Thanks to Dr. Bea for the referral and the photo.)

Friday, November 28, 2008

Cyborg Cookers

RoboCow might be only partly bovine—at the very least, his snout, horns, chest, one eye, and one arm are the real deal, so that's, what, a minimum of 75%?—but he's all violently deranged meat cooker.

Still, with his organic/mechanical essence, he is poised to be the finest example of the Submissive Dominant we have ever seen! (Here's a beneficent specimen of the form.) Submissive Dominants are creatures—ahem, creations—that use their undisputed power in service of their own destruction.

Though RoboCow has at his disposal the most formidable weapons fashioned by man and Nature, an arsenal that could take out a sizable chunk of the barbecue industry in a blast of infrared glory and bionic awesomeness, he doesn't fight.

Impossibly, this walking weapon neither resists nor revolts. No! He joins in. He lends his talents to the suicidefoodist effort, turning the steaks and keeping a robotic eye on the ribs.

Was it worth it, RoboCow? Can you remember when you frolicked in the grass, the sun on your back, your tail swishing? Is your true self forever buried beneath an unfeeling titanium alloy shell?

Is that you in there, RoboCow?

Addendum: The old-fashioned robotical style of livestock automaton. Note the barbecue fork and the single-minded pursuit of animal cooking.

Addendum 2 (11/29/08): Another one? The more rocks you turn over, the more worms you find. You recognize this motif, yes? It's the Transformer-style mecha-pig from Transformer BBQ.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

California Grown Turkey

We can only surmise that this turkey is currently doing time in California's penal system. How else to account for the license plate? Clearly, it is a token of the turkey's prison job cranking those things out.

What is the turkey in for? How much time did he get? Did he receive better legal counsel than the zillions of other turkeys serving the ultimate sentence? Was he railroaded, just another miscarriage of justice?

Regardless, what's up with this guy?

Our guess: he's institutionalized, like Brooksie in The Shawshank Redemption. A life of confinement has eroded his self-confidence, rendering him incapable of surviving on the outside. Wherever he turns, he sees four walls. They're inside him now. And so, carrying his prison cell in his head, he can never be free, no matter what the governor says, no matter how the parole board rules.

All of which brings a turkey a certain demented peace. He can never be free, so he may finally rest. He may quit the race. "That's right, world: gobble it up!"

If he should die on Thanksgiving, at least something "good" will have come from his too-short life. And he might finally have the chance to atone for his crimes. Whatever they were.

(Enjoy a second helping of Thanksgiving insanity here.)

Monday, November 24, 2008


It takes all kinds of animals to make a suicidal movement work.

Not every pig is up to the heavy lifting of barbecue manufacture or kitchen staffing. Not every chicken has what it takes to front a poultry-killing enterprise. And lord knows not every goat has it in him to butt aside all obstacles standing between him and the grill.

So it is with our CattleMax calf.

After all, this world needs slaughterables with brains and not just tender, succulent meat. When cattle ranchers need to track such delicious arcana as scrotal circumference, %KPH (kidney-pelvic-heart fat), and semen inventory, they turn to CattleMax and its tech-support calf.

When he's not pounding out code that allows cows to be managed and processed with speed and efficiency—the foremost hope of all cattle!—he serves as the firm's figurehead. And he's grateful for the opportunity. Whether it's the thrilling world of carcass details or the intricacies of Beef Improvement Federation standards, he's only too happy to bring cattle management (and cattle managers) into the 21st century!

Saturday, November 22, 2008

Operation BBQ for Our Troops

The humble joy of gratitude has gone sour.

While we cannot but be moved by the pig and chicken's sincere expression of thanks, we are nevertheless queasy.

For doesn't their attitude make needless the sacrifice that inspired it?

If you were a soldier braving enemy fire, toiling to protect the rights of American "food" animals, only to see those same animals thank you by tossing themselves onto the coals, how would you respond?

Perhaps you would say something like, "Hey, pal! That means I protected you for nothing!"

Or, "Next time, kill yourself first and maybe I can just stay home."

Moving on, is that pig actually a piglet? With the baseball cap and the ill-fitting T-shirt riding up on the pudgy belly, it sure looks like a pig child getting ready to sacrifice himself.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Special Report: Pig Logo Exposé 6

To think, it all started with the Georgia Barbecue Classic! In the 15 months since we analyzed the rotund barbecue inhabitant, reports have filtered in.

Please consider this collection of lookalikes and wonder at the tenacity of the barbecuers, and the stubbornness of an idea.

(Have you been keeping up with our series of barbecue logo exposés? The previous one is here. Of course, as soon as we blow the lid off one of these, the suicidefoodists erect another lid. Is this a losing proposition for us? Should we give up? Never!)

(Left to right, by row: Georgia Barbecue Classic, Smitty's Smokehouse and BBQ joint, LawLers Barbecue; Family Ski Meisters Pig Roast, Hog Heaven Ribs, Bubba's BBQ; Stone's Bones, Lonnie's Bar-B-Que (source), Tom's Ribs; Green River Bar-B-Que, Henry's Smokehouse (source), sign on offer at ebay.)

This fellow's standard traits are easy to enumerate: Heart-shaped snout disc, broad smile, floppy right ear, and implement-ready hands. Naturally, not every example of the pig we dub Lumpy includes each of these features. Indeed, Lumpy shows up in a stunning array of variations! Sometimes, he holds a knife and fork (or fork and knife). Sometimes a knife and spoon. Sometimes a fork and glass, and sometimes nothing at all. With or without bandanna, snout round or cordate, beady of eye or not, he is always game to be eaten.

Cheerful to the end, Lumpy only wishes he could sit with you a little longer and enjoy your company (and the taste of pig flesh!), before gladly trotting off to the back room, where his gleeful throat is happily slit.

Addendum (12/21/08): Lumpy's thirteenth sighting! This time, he appears on behalf of Carl's Perfect Pig Bar-B-Que & Grill!

Addendum 2 (2/10/09): Number 14.

Addendum 3 (4/06/09): Lumpy returns for appearance number 15.

Addendum 4 (4/27/09): And, now arriving, appearance number 16!

Addendum 5 (7/12/09): Well, looky here! It's number 17.

Addendum 6 (12/18/09): Number 18.

Addendum 7 (4/19/10): Number 19? Our panel of judges says yes. (The heart-shaped snout disk clinched it.)

Addendum 8 (12/05/10): Number 20. Lumpy's just as fresh and sassy as ever!

Addendum 9 (6/30/11): Number 21 (and the second train-related specimen).

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Bar-b-Que from the Heart

"From the heart," is right! This is barbecue straight from the very heart of life's longing for itself!

The procreative urge, the desire to experience and be experienced, to achieve an earthly immortality—this awesome force, this irresistible truth of existence, is funneled into the North Dakota barbecue championship.

The pigs are star-cross'd lovers destined to be consumed. Nevertheless, they meet and mate, and bring forth new appetizers pigs likewise destined for consumption! After which, the lovers blissfully succumb to the flames. Their offspring continue destiny's cycle.

This is the stuff of myth. The edible Phoenix! Prometheus chaining himself to the rock that his liver—liver, ribs, whatever—may be perpetually consumed, replenished, and reconsumed!

Sunday, November 16, 2008

California Sea Urchin Commission

For too long have the ranks of death-hungry "food" animals included only the well-known creatures. Cows, pigs, and chickens, of course. Also buffalo, ostriches, deer, shrimp, fish, lobsters, clams, crabs, goats, sheep (both juvenile and adult), ducks, rabbits, and turkeys. Even worms, a squid, an octopus, a bear, and a snake have taken their turn on the stage!

In that august company, the sea urchin might have reckoned itself too obscure, too insignificant to merit attention.

But no!

Spike is here to proclaim—in tones of rejoicing—that all creatures can look forward to their eventual exploitation! None shall be overlooked! None shall be left out!

The suicidefood movement is a big tent. All are welcome within its sickly, grasping embrace! Let all have a seat at the table plate to rest upon!

Sea urchins are every bit as capable of devoting themselves to the culinary whims of their human overlords as, say, those glory-hogging pigs and cows. They are finally shaking off centuries of neglect and saying, "No more shall you assume we wish to avoid being eaten! No more shall you fail to carve holes in our shells and properly handle our—in the words of the Commission—'liquid' and 'black parts!'"

What a day! Not only for echinodermkind, but for us all!

(Thanks to Dr. Jonathan for the referral.)

Friday, November 14, 2008

Backwoods Aluminum Water Troughs

What magic dwells in these troughs that has the power to grant long life to the animals privileged to drink from them? What an enchantment!

Yes, cow, sing of the power! Warble into your bathbrush "microphone" and let the world know of your eternal vigor! Rise up from your deathly slumber, Juan Ponce de León, and look upon the marvel you sought so long!

Yea—for the very Fountain of Youth, storied giver of life, has been found!

How rare, how precious a thing, to find a company so devoted to the longevity of the animals it serves! How–

Pardon? How's that?

You say the long life the Backwoods Aluminum Water Troughs people are talking about is actually the long life of the, um… The water troughs? And that's what the cow is singing about?

Never mind.