We have spent some time on this
blog warning you, the literate and refined public, about the very real menace of drunken feral hogs. They have come after our beer and
gone completely berserk, chasing cows until passing out under a tree. They have
drunk our beer and gone berserk until they have run into traffic and taken out our cars. Oh, they are for real. And they
run in packs. And they have apparently been talking to the bears of Florida who have come for our beer, too. Because beer is good and they have neither
thumbs nor analytical thought with which to make it. So they break into our
homes and campsites and steal it.
 |
| No-longer mini-pig; hide the beer |
That is until now. Now, National Geographic has run an article about hogs that have infiltrated
the homes of hipsters. Hipsters who have
presumably been stockpiling Pabst. But
hipsters nonetheless. The article is titled, “The Big Problem with Mini-Pigs.”
It does not discuss their binge drinking and general propensity to tear
sh*t up. No, the subtitle is “When pint-size pigs grow bigger than
promised, they wind up euthanized or in shelters. Can education, regulation and more
sanctuaries solve the problem?” The
answer is no, unless the education centers on not letting the pigs into our
homes to get at our beer in the first place, the regulation does the same, and
the sanctuaries are slaughterhouses which convert the overly-large, presumably
beer-fed formerly mini-pigs into Kobe-style bacon.
The story goes through a number
of crazy people who bought or “adopted” so-called mini-pigs that turned into
500 pound hogzillas, and then had to figure out what to do with them. They sent them to pig sanctuaries, otherwise
in normal parlance known as a hog farm, that cannot find money or someone to
take it over. That’s because normally, pigs are not kept in sanctuaries. They are kept on hog farms, or when they
break free, they are feral hogs who tear sh*t up looking for beer the way that
their nature demands. Hogs are either on
a farm eating slop and getting ready to be bacon, or are in the wild, drinking
beer and tearing sh*t up.
You can’t bring that in the house
and expect it to be a domesticated animal.
And you can’t expect it to remain mini. What you can do is keep the pig
on the farm, and hide your beer. Because the mini-pigs are not domesticated
animals. They are the advanced guard for the feral army coming for our beer,
and god help us, perhaps our whiskey. Because
we’ve seen what the hogs do when their drunk on beer.
Can you imagine the havoc they
would wreak on whiskey. Beer is marching fuel.
Get ten people together, give them beer, and see what they do. They form
a pack and march. Give one dude beer and
he may tear stuff up for a little bit, but will then rest it out in a chair or
under a tree, much like this hog did.
While beer is marching fuel,
whiskey is knifing fuel. Give a man an
over-abundance of Jack Daniels and he’s likely to get all stabby. Give it to a
five hundred pound feral hog, all hell breaks loose.
So, National Geographic, let’s
change the infomercial. Let’s advocate
getting the hogs out of the house and away from the alcohol. Mini-pigs aren’t mini. They are simply
waiting to grow either into bacon, or into feral beer-seeking missiles of doom.
Photo credit: National Geographic
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