Namely, the piquant contrast between living and dying.
On the one hand, he or she grabs life by the scruff of the neck and yanks. The hoisting of beers! The wearing of sunglasses! The carrying of sandwiches! The striking of awkward, unnameable poses! She or he is a one-pig celebration of life's undeniable charms, of the overflowing bounty of life's promise to us all. Live, pig, live! Drink every drop! Bask in every second! Wallow in every moment life offers you!
And yet.
And yet he or she indulges in a too-familiar search for death. For while dancing on the (invisible) table, the pig prepares to die. The pig seduces oblivion. Can you make out the tattoo on her or his arm? MOM inked above a ham?
Ponder that one some night when you can't stop thinking about the poor decisions you've made in your life.
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