Suicide Snacks: quickies 9

When the lengthy sermons are too much, we turn to our by-now-classic series of rapid-fire diatribules for relief. (Revisit the most recent installment, won't you?)

You tell 'em, duck! What, do those tofu-munching hippies think they're too good for your repulsive liver or something?




The swiggin' pig of Nashville, Tennessee doesn't do anything halfway. He lives life at full throttle, sometimes spending seven, eight hours a day down at the local tavern. And he dies full tilt, too.








A shrimp crossed with a Segway? It's the cuddliest version yet of half-animal/half-machine monstrosity.










Yes, yes, it's not about meat. It's a rare example of dairy-related business. Still, it's remarkable because it's like the cow's innermost thoughts and feelings will not be repressed. The cow's undeniable gratitude at being used shines out, through bone, muscle, and hide.

Pigheaded BBQ

The pig's plan is finally bearing fruit. By finding a way to mate with miniature cows and chickens—thereby rendering their offspring blessed with the pig essence so prized (it would seem) by humans—he shares with the rest of creation the joy he has known so intimately.

It's a strange plan, admittedly, and it involves some irksome mutants, but whatever. Here's to the lovable crackpots who roll up their sleeves (or, in this case, tear them off), and get the job done!

We're not saying the pig is entirely altruistic, either. The wicked way he's looking at his feckless spawn does give one pause.

Well? What of it? Why shouldn't he get something in the bargain—in this case, the joy of killing and cooking—when he's giving so much? He, who made the lowly cows and the dim chickens more palatable, more desirable as living, breathing pre-food. More piglike.

Is he not their god? Do they not owe him everything? All the mightiest gifts—theirs!

3-Headed Monster

It came from the foulest swamps of clip-art.

A hideous (and hideously cheerful) freak prepares to be cooked and eaten.

One barbecue readied for each of its heads, it shrieks happily while the coals glow.

Happy Halloween.







Addendum: Last year's Halloween post is equally spookifying.

Suicide Snacks: quickies 7

Sometimes even a hot soapbox isn't enough to keep us motivated. Sometimes we just need a rest. Which is why we instituted the Suicide Snack format back in 2008, to ease up on the throttle and coast a bit. (The most recent installment.)



The chicken is taking no chances. You will stop to sit down, place your order, and consume chickens. Damn bird's been pestering the selectmen of Troy, Michigan, to put in flashing lights and a billboard too.









Laughing and roasting. Two great verbs that go great together.

In his great laughing roast-anticipation, this pig appears to be actively dissolving, firing off flecks of flesh in all directions. Which is known in the business, distressingly, as pork shrapnel.






A remarkable fate in Richland, Georgia: transformed in death into a train, doomed to ply the rails and deliver the people who will consume your corpse. It's practically Greek in its tidy horror.






The ghost of a disembodied bird head happily haunts the patrons of this Perth chicken place.

The Seafood International Market & Restaurant

The Seafood International Market & Restaurant boasts, "If it swims, we have it."

By which they mean, naturally, "If it used to swim, we have it." Or, in the case of this lovely mermaid, "If it used to swim and has been hoisted onto a table, trapped, never to return to its natural home, we have it."

What's remarkable about this image, of course, is the presence of a half- (or near-) human. In this, it demonstrates suicidefoodism's total domination of our better natures. For it announces—do listen for the trumpets—that even near- (or half-) humans can wish to die for our culinary satisfaction. And doing so, they are fair game.

Our mermaid, her breasts demurely scaled, is fresh from the sea—her hair is still stringy with brine. Having been plopped onto the table, she doesn't wriggle. No, she invites you to dig in, her flukes coyly raised. It's a heady invitation, indeed, this comely amphibian makes. And the diners flock to her table. They fumble with their chopsticks. They dig in.

Which raises the question: how much humanity is required to render a potential meal inedible? Would a pig with human ears be spared? Or a chicken with an Adam's apple?

Our undine, who might very well have swum headlong into the net, doesn't wish to be spared, but instead to be devoured raw, like a common fish.

Grove's Tasteless Chill Tonic: a "what the hell?" digression

Pardon us. It appears our brain has fallen out.

This product—this chill tonic—could scarcely have received a more suitable designation. Tasteless. And how!

Lay down your four bits (that's 50¢ in old-timey talk), grab a bottle for yourself, and see!

Drink it down and watch as you become… as fat… as a pig! (?) And as you metamorphose into an actual pig with a lace collar and receding hairline. (??) And acquire the affect of an elderly gentleman caught in mid-regression to his infancy. (???)

And just what does this, you know, mean, sociologically-speaking? That fat pigs are such symbols of happiness that we yearn to emulate them? That "food" animals are associated with rosy good health?

Who knows.

(Thanks to Dr. Benjamin for the referral.)

Addendum: Feel free to investigate the other posts in our "award-winning" (that is, non-award winning) series of "what the hell?" digressions: Dead Busty Turkey, Samsung Safari, and Cluck-n-Stuff.

Longhorns Saloon & Barbeque

Finally! Something that makes sense!

More than three years ago, we encountered a creature suffering from a similar complaint, which has since been codified as Induced Mutation Psychosis. (And since then, we also had occasion to meet the Chiggish and the Piscow.)

Briefly, IMP is the syndrome that artificially created beings develop when their unnatural genotype leads to decidedly poor self-esteem.

In the present case, the Bovog is shockingly ill-suited to carry on a meaningful existence. Quite the contrary. Facing his own destruction, he merely winks, as though he were in on the joke.

And who can blame him? Born a freak—a freak whose freakishness only made him a more desirable foodstuff—he never had anything to look forward to except his own death. Now that his destruction is imminent, he can finally experience a modicum of pleasure. In his place, would any of us behave differently?

Special Report: Pig Logo Exposé 8

We have dropped any number of bombshells with our series of pig logo exposés. We've ruffled the feathers of the suicidefood establishment. Stepped on some toes. Sure. Obviously. It comes with the territory.

If you've been following our exposés, you might suppose you've already seen the most prevalent pig mascots. Perhaps you're thinking of Lumpy, with at least 17 tokens. Or maybe Pig Out, with at least 18. But they are as nothing compared to this, our latest and greatest installment! Feast your eyes on this cornucopia of suicidefoodist cloning!


















































































































































(From left to right, by row: KKC Barbeque Company, Cape BBQ Fest, Up in Smoke BBQ; Bixby BBQ n' Blues Festival, Bullock's Bar-B-Cue, Dillon County Chamber of Commerce BBQ Contest; Kennesaw's Pigs & Peaches BBQ Contest, Butt Lovers BBQ, JD's Barbecue; New Jersey State Barbecue Championship, Speak E-Z's, Biffle's Smoke House; Bub-Ba-Q, Stone Mountain BBQ Cook-off, Hog Heaven; Winelands Pork, Carolina Q Cup, Gourmet Pig Roast; Hansen Meat Service, Nugget Rib Cook-off, "Just Ask George" [thanks to Dr. shidoshi for the referral and photo]; The Giggly Pig, Pig Roast and Shore Lunch, Georgia Bar B Cue Association; Henry's Hog Roast [thanks to Dr. BJ for the referral and photo], Restaurant 28 Catering, Masterpiece Bar-B-Que; 10th Annual BBQ Cookoff, Uncle Redd's [thanks to Dr. Deepfriedkudzu for the photo]; TNT Southern Bar-BQ, Longcross Arks, McFrankenboo BBQ.)

Now, we know what you're thinking. The breadth, the scope, the numbing repetition! It's overwhelming! Well, prepare to be overwhelmeder!

Because this is only the beginning. Something has been nagging at us for a good long time about this pig—we'll call him Ubi, short for ubiquitous. We couldn't get over the feeling that, even though we have uncovered example after example of him, in varying degrees of customization, there was more to the story.

And then it hit us like a plate of pork. (Barf.)

Exposé 3, starring Ta-Da! At the time of this writing, we have unearthed 17 specimens. Here, take a look at a couple.

Don't you see?

Ta-Da! is Ubi. Ubi is Ta-Da! They are one. We are looking at the mightiest confluence of clip-art, folk art, and barbecue meme the world has ever known! It's almost like the Unified Field Theory, drawing together every strand of the Suicidefoodist Movement!

And it happened in our lifetime.
















Addendum: Opinion at headquarters is divided, but doesn't there appear to be some Ubi influence in this, as well? (The image, by the way, is for a dogpark.)












Addendum 2 (10/18/09): The 50th example of Ubi/Ta-Da!















Addendum 3 (10/25/09): Two from the German-speaking world, coming in at #51 and #52. One advertises a Metzgerei (butcher's shop), and the other a "suckling pig paradise!"













Addendum 4 (10/26/09): This thing's gone global!












Addendum 5 (11/21/09): For number 54, Ubi lounges on an airplane so that he might be delivered—fresh!—directly to your mouth.









Addendum 6 (2/19/10): Fifty-five. Okay, we get the point.










Addendum 7 (4/25/10): We're calling it. Number 56. It's iffy, but the general shape of the snout and ears, not to mention the sparse head hairs, sealed the deal for us.











Addendum 8 (10/06/10): #57.






Addendum 8 (10/16/10): For number 58, we go back south of the border.








Addendum 9: With appearances 59–63, Ubi cements his reputation as the hardest-working pig in the dying business!