By the way, may I call you that? Pig? It’s meant with the utmost respect, and after all, it is your name. Believe me. I’ve never used your name in vain when referring to perverts or sleazeballs. I don’t know who started that. Uncool. Nor have I ever said, “go clean up, you filthy pig!” to either of my kids or my husband. Even that time when they were so foul I wouldn’t let them in the house without hosing off in the backyard first. I’ve read that elephants and rhinos are much dirtier than pigs, but the dirtiest of all, obviously, is the dung beetle. Just so you know, whenever possible I do correct people by saying, “go clean up, you filthy dung beetle!”
Okay, that’s not why I’m writing you. I need to talk to you about the state of pigs. I’ve read the news and it’s not good. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, pick up a paper. We’re in the belly of a pork shortage. Nobody’s bringing home the bacon these days. Even Major League Eating has suspended their bacon eating contest. (Side note: the writer of this letter does not endorse the brutish public display demonstrated at MLE events and remains unbiased regarding this vulgar competition.) But that’s the least of your problems.
You’re becoming a rare breed. And not in a way that gives you bragging rights in the barn. Farmers can’t afford to raise you anymore. You’re too rich for the roost. They’re downsizing pigs, buddy. They’re blowin’ your house down, man!
Thankfully for you, nobody knows better than I about raising expensive livestock. And I’m here to help you.
Let’s isolate the problem. You only eat two things. Corn and soy. Right now they’re too darn expensive. Let’s examine the facts. Pigs are natural scavengers. Meaning you’ll eat any ol’ crap. In fact, I heard pigs will even eat crap. (Just saying.) So what’s with the diva demands? Hanging with Nicki Minaj much? Well, lucky for you no one knows about finicky, stubborn, picky-eater-livestock better than I do. I mean, who can subsist on just mac and cheese? Everyday?!? I don’t think so. Not anymore. Nope. Not when there’s Jamie Oliver’s crispy-skinned chicken thighs with heirloom tomatoes and fresh oregano to be had. And Ina Garten’s beef stew, with aromas that make you weak in the knees. No. Not anymore kiddies. I won’t be shamed by other mothers’ stories about how their kids eat avocados…in their salads!! No more mac and cheese! I can’t! I won’t!
Whoa… what just happened? Where was I? - sorry pigs.
Let’s set up a plan. First thing, mix it up. Try new stuff. If you’re apprehensive about this, experiment with the “just one bite” rule. This encourages the exploration of new flavors. You’ll never know you like something unless you try it! Okay, if that one bite makes you want to puke, pinch your nose and shut your eyes and try again with a massive gulp of milk. If that didn’t do it either, don’t be discouraged. There’s always the “try it 3 times” rule. Go back to this food on three different occasions. You may gag the first time you eat Brussels sprouts, but by the third meal, if you’re not pelting them across the barn at the cows, you just might tolerate them. If all else fails, proceed to the “deep fry it” or “cover it with melted cheese” rule. Both work like a charm.
What I’m proposing, at times, will be difficult. Stay strong. And don’t, like some of your kind, turn to the bottle. Pigs can become alcoholics. Did you know that? I don’t mean to bring you down; you can read about that here. Seek out smart pigs and form a support group. I heard that one pig farmer was so desperate to keep his pigs alive he fed them candy. And they ate it! (Okay, I never told you about the “one M&M for every Brussels sprout” rule. Guilty as charged.) Anyway, those are the kinds of pigs you need to surround yourself with. The resilient ones. Remember, survival of the fittest. We want you around. Don’t be pig-headed.