Suicide Snacks: quickies 8

It's been close to a year since we allowed ourselves a moment to rest and offer up another installment of our beloved series of "Suicide Snacks." Sometimes, like today, we're just not up to the rigors of our self-imposed campaign.


Can you read the inspiring legend on her sash? She has been crowned Miss Prolificacy, the livestock-makingest pig there is! She's a one-sow pork-producing machine!






This exotic beauty, this made-up, be-kohled octopus in Portland, Oregon, wiggles her sensual arms, beckoning all comers to dine on… well, herself.

Bonus: Impossibly, this seductress is only the third octopus we have ever featured!







Really? It's just us? We're the only ones creeped out by a pig with a beard? Okay. Fair enough.








We're not sure what we're seeing here. The weary satisfaction of another factory shift competently worked, perhaps. Or maybe the muted joy of a lobster facing his imminent boiling out there on the factory floor.

Suicide Snacks: quickies 5

When the ranting and sermonizing start weighing us down, we turn to these bite-sized morsels of bemusement.

Enjoy. (And do visit our previous installment of Suicide Snacks.)

This party is strictly BYOA. (Bring Your Own Apple of Death.)






Octopus ice cream is merely the latest mystifying emission from Planet Suicidefood. We would have assumed any self-respecting octopus would be affronted at the very existence of such a product. Oh, now we see. Self-respecting.












Smoker's or Stinker's BBQ Pit? We can't help but see the wavering stink lines, and the (approximate) nose-holding "P-U" gesture.










The steer is dead. The elements have stripped away every scrap of flesh. The sun has bleached the skull clean. And still! Still the poor creature wants to participate in the institution dedicated to its destruction. See the steer snort! Death is not powerful enough—not hardly—to quell an animal's desire to be destroyed.