Governor's Championship BBQ

From the back of his limo dragging the official barbecue, sprawled behind the chicken chauffeur, Hizzoner waves his shapeless, meaty hand at the unseen parade-goers.

This is a twist on that time-honored device, the Submissive Dominant. (In fact, the governor bears more than a passing resemblance to the Capitalist Pigs, those other embodiments of greed's and graft's pernicious effects on the sensibilities of pigs with authority.)

With the instruments of state power at his fingertips, the governor could force through legislation to improve the lot of pigs and chickens everywhere. "Nevermore shall you fear, brothers!" he could say at gatherings along the route of his whistle-stop tour. "A chicken removed from every pot!" he could promise. And how they would cheer! How they would throng to him, to shake his hand, to pledge their votes, to repeat his name in humble awe.

But no.

For in the state of BBQ (motto: Nunquam praeter dimidium or "Never more than half," a reference to the "food animals'" perpetual lesser-than status), some things are more important than rightness or justice. Or even power. What matters most of all is the duty attendant upon every citizen to fling himself onto the grill in wild populist fervor.

Uncaged—Yes on Proposition 2

Before we get down to business, we must mention two things:

1) California residents, please do vote Yes on Proposition 2, the farm animal welfare bill on the November 2008 ballot.

2) While you're at it, consider voting Yes on the Little Old Lady Protection Act. LOLPA would outlaw pushing little old ladies down the stairs before mugging them. Although LOLPA has garnered much support, some detractors see in it an unnecessary restriction on personal liberty. Rest assured, LOLPA does not prohibit mugging of the elderly and would not prevent you from continuing to assault and rob anyone.

Which brings us to Uncaged. This animated Yes-on-2 production stars a pig singing a Proposition 2–related version of Stevie Wonder's classic Superstitious.




The cause is worthy. The message is repulsive and winds up recapitulating major themes of the suicidefoodist movement. The animals do not object to being raised for food, to being transformed even before their birth into a commodity. No, that is a foundational component of being an animal, and they are foursquare in favor of that. They take issue only with the specifics of their subjugation.







One might have supposed that people devoted to the welfare (if not the freedom) of animals would have preferred a less ugly approach. Was it necessary to show rows of pigs cheering as our singer/pig Sty-vie Wonder requests pleasanter confinement? Or ranks of thumbs-upping chickens pleased to be referred to as "food"? Or a veal calf (one of the "calves you will be eatin'") relieved only to stop "livin' in [its] poo"?







Back to the (imaginary) Little Old Ladies Protection Act. Just as Prop 2 calls for what should be uncontroversially humane treatment of livestock, LOLPA calls for people not to push little old ladies down flights of stairs. Who but the psychopathological could oppose such a measure?

Say that pro-LOLPA advocacy groups produced a snappy animated number. In it, darling little old cartoon ladies asked simply, "Before you mug us, please don't shove us down the stairs." Would that give you pause?

"When you mug us, you don't need to hug us! Just don't! Push! Us! Down! The! Staaairs!" Would you wonder, "Why is grandma okay with the idea of getting mugged in the first place? Couldn't they find another way of presenting their case?"

So it is with Uncaged. Surely there is a way to express support for the measure without showing animals explicitly endorsing its of-course-animals-are-still-going-to-be-killed-and-eaten presupposition.

(Thanks to Dr. Gennifer for the referral.)






Addendum: If you live in California, please do vote Yes on Prop 2. Thank you.

Frosty Morn Sausage

More sausagenanigans from the southlands. Our research has revealed that back in the 50s/60s/70s, Frosty Morn was a brand of sausage predominant in the South. (Yes, the brand is still sold.) Like the passionate pigs of Valleydale, the Frosty Morn pigs are super-duper capital-L LOYAL to their brand. You've heard of brand identity? Well, this brand gives them their identity. Without it, they'd be nothing. Nothing other than free creatures, that is, with all the joys and sorrows that freedom entails. Free to live without the fear, coercion, and torment so familiar to "food" animals. And who wants a life like that? Not animals loyal to their masters, and to the Church of Suicidefoodism above all!

Frosty Morn's strategy, the way they short-circuited the reasoning power of otherwise discerning consumers, was the judicious use of The Jingle. One commenter on a website dedicated to memories of old Birmingham, Alabama, recalled his associations with Frosty Morn and their infernal jingle this way:

"I don't know if anyone else remembers... the old Frosty Morn sausage TV commercials. They featured animated, singing piggies, which sounded exactly like The Chipmunks. I'm 55 now, but... that Frosty Morn jingle is, unfortunately, still burned into my brain.

Sing it over and over and over again!
Frosty Morn...
Sing it over and over and over again!
Frosty Morn...
The height of a piggy's ambition,
From the day he is born,
He hopes that he will be good enough
To be a Frosty Morn!
So, everybody join in
And sing it over and over and over again!"

It's all there: the relentless repetition underscoring the rightness of the pigs' desire to be eaten.

Another commenter provided information germane to the Frosty Mourn Morn image at the top of this page. (Suicidefoodist imagery often crosses the border into the realm of the surreal, but… three pigs hoisting one of their fellows in victory, all in the name of electing a brand… of… sausage to the, um, presidency? That's so weird it's positively Dada!)

Anyway! On to that second commenter!

“[O]ne of their commercials had a sign that said ‘Frosty Morn for President.’

The song for that one went

Our candidate has requested
We read this note he sent:
‘I'd rather be a Frosty Morn
Than be president.’”

(You have no choice but to accept that you live in a world that, evidently, produced a 78 rpm record—to buy?—with this jingle on it.)

Yes, there is no higher aspiration than to be transformed into meat. President? Does the president get to become sausage? No, sir, he does not. Temporary Food Animal, though... That's a worthwhile endeavor. It's a calling, the noblest cause.

"I pledge allegiance to the axe..."

You don't want to know the rest.







Addendum (9/19/11): The world has made this available.

D.C. Cluck-U Chicken Mural

Does the absurdity of this mural tell us anything about our disturbed national zeitgeist?

In the shadow of our hallowed national temples, a collegiate chicken-jock—the mascot of the Cluck-U chain of fried chicken restaurants—dangles a chicken leg as an inducement to cross the finish line. (Cluck-U has dozens of outlets across the mid-Atlantic and, strangely, one in Lebanon. Yes, Lebanon. The country.)

The competitors—a wildly out-of-scale elephant and a donkey—are herbivores, yet they sprint like mad for the meat, kicking up political party-coded smoke as they go. True, the puffs of smoke are incorrectly colored. Blue for the G.O.P. and red for the Dems? This lapse is easily the least objectionable thing about the mural. (The most objectionable? You have to ask? Who put the chicken up to this? Does someone have dirt on him? Is this part of some insider politics, a little quid pro quo? Surely, the chicken didn't think of offering up a chicken leg to the winner.)

We are told by someone in a position to know that the mural was painted 1) on the side of a Cluck-U Chicken establishment and 2) with funds from the District of Columbia government. If true, this represents government waste—pork?—at its most inane.

We need to target funds where they can actually do some good. The Cluck-U chicken is too far gone, or too politically compromised, for government largess.

(Thanks to Dr. D.C. Vegan for the referral and photo.)






Addendum (5/17/10): Dr. Alan informs us that this mural was recently painted over. We don't know whether to mourn or celebrate. So we're opting for something in the middle: 30 quiet seconds of nonspecific thinking.