Praise the Lard BBQ

Praise the Lord BBQ draws inspiration from Acts 11: 5-9. On the off chance we need to refresh your memories, here are the verses:

5 “I was in the city of Joppa praying, and in a trance I saw a vision. I saw something like a large sheet being let down from heaven by its four corners, and it came down to where I was. 6 I looked into it and saw four-footed animals of the earth, wild beasts, reptiles and birds. 7 Then I heard a voice telling me, ‘Get up, Peter. Kill and eat.’ 8 “I replied, ‘Surely not, Lord! Nothing impure or unclean has ever entered my mouth.’ 9 “The voice spoke from heaven a second time, ‘Do not call anything impure that God has made clean.’"

Clean! Clean! Rejoice that he is clean! Casting aside the prohibition against eating his flesh like a pestilent shroud, the pig glows with righteousness. Free—for the first time, free, free, gloriously free—free from the burden of that hated injunction, that stain that marked him as unfit, the pig descends from heaven as upon a cloud. The chicken's and cow's expressions might be heathenishly ambiguous—do we see on their faces fear? anxiety? disbelief?—but the pig's heart is strong and pure, like a bell that fills heaven with its peal.

His corruption has been cleansed, his sentence revoked, his disgrace rescinded!

Of all the uses to which religion has been put, the various forms into which it has been trained like a compliant vine, the most comforting by far is this: the cementing of the animals' role as humanity's dull-witted slave, its selfless foundation, the floor upon which it treads.

And lo! The pig looks upward, arms flung wide, in thanks. For now he will be eaten. Even as the cow and chicken, he will be eaten!

KC's Rib Shack

It's a treasure trove of recycled "jokes" and thrice-told tales!

For instance: Vegetarians are limp-wristed sissy-hippies.

Much like working-class people who can be conned into supporting the whims of their corporate masters, Porky the KC's pig appears to have been deceived into backing the goals of the "meatetarians" who won't rest until his bones have been picked clean.

You see, Porky has somehow gotten it into his head that the "annoying" vegetarians are the real threat, and they need to be neutralized.

It's not his killers and grillers he's worried about. It's the self-righteous pork-abstainers that've got him riled up. How dare they refuse him!

Porky, they're playing you. And then they're eating you.

Silver Leaf Lard

Back before the days of strong labor unions, in the genteel, yet gritty, 19th century, Chicago—hog butcher to the world—was home to a de facto caste system. Proletariat pigs propped up hogs of wealth. The upper crust lorded over the workers at the bottom of the heap, workers who could only dream their simple dreams of freedom.

Enter Silver Leaf Lard, the great equalizer! Through Silver Leaf’s divine order, pigdom is once again at peace. All are welcome at the lardworks. All are worthy.

While their divisions linger, now the classes are revealed for all their irrelevancy! They are the stuff of petty fashion, of bristle-thin loyalties. Yes, yes, it is left to some to pull the lardbucket carriage along. It is for others to enjoy the ride with their walking sticks and topcoats. And yet!

And yet all are going to the same place. The factory awaits them all, to render them all to their porcine essence. All are reducible to pure, sweet lard!

The draft-pigs, those six sturdy gallopers, strain at their traces. The passengers chatter excitedly. How impatient they are! Onward! Tally ho! How handsome the sows in their Sunday finery! How eager to face the culmination of their lives, wherein they will finally achieve their truest equality, their noblest brotherhood. If you prick them, do they not bleed? If you render them, do they not become a succulent, silvery, Swift and Company-blessed lard?

Lard! Lard! Glorious lard! Uplifter of the laborer. Humbler of the aristocrat. Scourge of the tyrant!

(Thanks to Dr. Pes for the referral and the image. Do yourself a favor and visit Pes's brilliant site.)

Porci-Mex

Behold nearly 28 pounds of pure Mexican lard. ¡Talk about a Tub of Lard!

Right there on the plastic bucket, a cheerful pig done up in the national costume of his killers.

And, truly, what quarrel could he have with them? After all, they merely butchered him and his family, and recovered their fat from the lifeless bodies and melted it, rendering their essence into a consumer product hardly noted for its rarity. (The Spanish phrase manteca de cerdo translates literally to the comparatively sanitized "pig butter.")

Porci-Mex is too magnanimous to let a little something like the rape of pigdom sour him on humanity. His generous spirit should serve as inspiration to all "food" animals awaiting their final disposition.

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