Uncle Piggy Smokey Grill

We can't be sure, but Uncle Piggy sure seems like a pig with a terrible secret.

We don't pretend to know all the details, but if we had to hazard a guess, we'd say it involves his eating all the stuff you threw on the grill a few minutes ago. (See him patting his belly?)

And then there's his, well… His personal issues. It's not exactly well known outside the world of suicidefood, but cannibalism and his own impending demise have joined forces to inflame inside him an unquenchable paraphilia.

His shirt's already off, and he crosses his legs provocatively. He wants you to want him. He is making bedroom eyes at you from atop the grill. Oh, he'll make you cry Uncle.

And with that, we're off to see our therapist. Until next time!

Thighs-N-Pies

She's got thighs—has she ever!—and she's got pies. Put them together, and she's got thighs-n-pies. While this image scores high on the Truth in Advertising Meter, it does raise a vexing issue.

Namely, does this lipsticked chicken in Daisy Dukes have pies in the same way she has thighs?

We think not. The pie is an item she holds aloft. When she shows it off to you, she's inviting you to select it from the menu. But when she struts and shows off those long legs, she's inviting you to select it from her body.

When you tell your server you'd like the Smoked Chicken Thighs (Hot, BBQ, or Mild), the chicken steps out back for a rendezvous with the cleaver. Which, apparently, is what's in it for her.



Addendum: When it comes to Pies 'n Thighs, a similarly named establishment, it's the pies that receive top billing. And among the wide assortment of pre-dead animals clamoring for you attention, there is, surprisingly, no leggy chicken hoping to catch you eye.

Snapper's Saloon

With a little imagination and a whole lot of unpleasant warping of one's mind, any edible thing can become a violent, sexual trigger.

For instance, the Lobstress.

Granted, compared with hooter, it takes plenty of effort to turn snapper into a word charged with erotic possibilities, but it can be done!

Just picture gleaming chitinous claws, crimson claws that mock-snap your most delicate regions, and that lipsticked mouth looming above them, she's just laughing at you, her cruel, painted eyes smile, she strokes her hair, long earrings dangling and tinkling, and it's all you can do to lift her above the boiling water and pry those succulent claws apart, dunk her in, and slam the lid down tight, chest heaving, your face flushed with the heat from the stove, your fists clenching and unclenching in spasmodic rage.

But they saw! They saw it all! She forced you! It was all her fault! That lobstress didn't know when to let it go. She had to keep snapping, clacking again and again. That snapping never stopped. Playing, she called it. Playing?! Yeah, well, who won the game? Huh? Who won the game?

(Thanks to Dr. Mrs. Suicidefood for the referral.)

Fantastic Chicken Noodles

He's the sexiest chicken in New Zealand. As he luxuriates in a hot tub full of broth, steam plays sensually about his feathers.

Lasciviously, he rubs himself with lemon halves, flavoring his flesh.

Later—you can't see him doing it here—he scrubs his back with a giant noodle.

He's a little high on himself, you see, and a little in love with the pleasure he feels preparing himself for your consumption. He's one erotic ingredient and he knows it.

(Thanks to Dr. Ross for the referral.)







Addendum: If you must.

Idiom Watch: Makin' Bacon

We take a break now from the crass world of commerce, with its logos, signs, slogans, come-ons, and assorted attention grabbers, and turn to the world of pure expression.

Specifically, the phrase "makin' bacon," surely one of the most unpleasant turns of phrase ever to spring from the mind of mankind.

The Contemporary Dictionary of Sexual Euphemisms by Jordan Tate (St. Martin's Press) tells us that the phrase formerly carried with it the specific sense of overweight humans having intercourse. Consider if you must the related dysphemism porking.





Nowadays, all we think of when we (infrequently!) encounter the phrase is pigs having sex to create more pigs to be consumed. "Makin' bacon," therefore, is the most perfect example of suicidefoodistic terminology we've ever come across. It also appears to be a favorite of the nation's t-shirt and tchotchke makers.












The pigs have harnessed their life force and channeled it to the needs of industry. Sex becomes an expression not of love or need or even wordless instinct, but of sterile supply and demand.



























The offspring issuing from these bacon-making unions are not Khalil Gibran's "sons and daughters of life's yearning for itself." They're just commodities, born to be killed and chilled in your grocer's refrigerators.























Addendum: And we don't know what to make of this.











Addendum 2: Do you know this man?

One Sweet Rack BBQ

Henceforth, or until we have to stop because it makes us feel too weird, this mingling of meat and sex will be referred to as feastiality.

What else can we call it when they create this mash-up of iconic sex symbol Marilyn Monroe and a rack of pork ribs? (Yes, yes, there's also the hilarious "rack of ribs" = "woman's bust" cliché.) They want to have their cake and eat it too. That is, they want to "have" their sex symbol—if you know what we mean—and consume her too.

Is it that the barbekooks would don the mantle of the conqueror? Must they not only take, but dominate? Must they annihilate? Where does this come from, this need to go beyond mere eating?

Unable to obtain Marilyn herself, they see her taunting vision in livestock. In food.

(Image source.)






Addendum: According to a site billing itself as "the leading online news and technical resource to the global swine industry," Pig Marilyn here is markedly underteated. Only six? You call that sexy?

21st Annual Jack Daniel's Barbecue

Now do you see?

We haven't been jumping to conclusions! They really do see pre-food animals as erotic beings. Equals, in the most intimate sense.

Although, who can blame them, when the animals are practically throwing themselves at their consumers' feet?

The cow lounges on her bed of timothy, parting her luscious loins just that barest fraction that tempts the most. She offers the coyest glimpse of the pleasures that await those who know what's what. And the ennui she exudes! It's all part of her hard-to-get routine.

And chickens, with their official vocabulary of breasts and thighs and tenders, are sexual from egg to oven. So the trip from chicken to "hot chick" was assuredly a short one for your average poultrivore.

So yes! By all means! Check out their loins. Put your lips on them.

Would you like a little privacy? Here, we'll just… Let us just get the door.

Naked Pig Q

Our favorite thing about this logo isn't the way it won't let us forget that pigs are sexual animals, perfectly suited to satisfy our many base desires.

No, as hauntingly nauseating beautiful as that thought is, it's not what keeps us riveted, our minds ever immersed in the oily world of bestiality's willing victims. (Thanks, world!)

What you need to know is that this image isn't just some cartoon. It's a portrait, an artistic interpretation of one of the foulest things we've ever seen, the porny Rachachuros pig. Which, if you're too cautious to click the link, is a photograph of a dead, crisp-skinned, sex-starved sow. On a plate. For you to "enjoy."

Just knowing that she has now entered the cultural lexicon is enough to make us yearn for a cave to call our own.







Addendum: Now these naked pigs are a little more demure. They have the good taste to hide their nudity behind a convenient picket fence.