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More Pigs for Your Dining Pleasure ... April 08, 2006
If only I could get my tiny, uncultivated, Indiana mind together, I might be able to do great things. Instead, I wallow in my own shit, like any nasty Indiana farm pig ought to. What of the pig who wishes she was born a horse? Can we really ever wash away the smell of rotten hay and dung, of half-composted leftovers from the farmer's dinner, and fit her with a saddle? Doubtful. What of the pig who has so totally lost it that she believes she is human? What are you gonna do when she comes trotting in the front door of your house, standing unsteadily on her two hind hooves and wearing the cloths she stole from the scarecrow?
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