Meat Stinkers

[Jerry Cosyn]

I saw a headline a while back. "Pork Queen Pied By Meat Stinker"
Now, I don't know about you, but that one didn't quite scan on first
reading. My eyes kept going over that one. They're tricky, you know,
those headline writers. And mind you, this was on the front page of the
newspaper.

So I finally had to give up and go to the story itself to see what
Pork Queen Pied By Meat Stinker meant as a phrase in the English
language. And there it was, in sordid detail.

It seems that in Iowa, they have an annual Pork Festival. It seems
they have a lot of pigs in Iowa, and for one day each year, pork is on
everybody's lips. They do it up in all-American fashion, with a parade
and a fair and everything. And of course they also elect -- how did you
guess? -- a Pork Queen.

She rides the float, you know, and does a little speech or bump &
grind or something, and displays a smile that cost more than a Mercedes
and a bust that cost more than the smile. All the usual things any
parade queen does. And then her time in the limelight is over and she
marries a meat cutter named George and fades into historical obscurity.

But this year's Pork Queen got a surprise. She was catapulted into
national notoriety when she was met on the football field or wherever at
the end of the parade by a cream pie, wielded by a member of one of the
fastest growing American institutions: the Lunatic Fringe. This
particular Fringer was a member of the Animal Rights Nuts of America,
attached to the Meat Stinks lodge 545, and was working on her "Save A
Pig" merit badge.

Apparently, areas of the country with greater population densities,
such as the coastal cities and some of the midwestern industrial areas,
have already laid claim to the more flashy, exotic, or cuter species of
animals for their campaign, and poor Iowa, having joined the race a
little late, has had to settle for things like pigs, swamp rats, and
chiggers.

Anyway, this particular Meat Stinker (which is what the members of
the Meat Stinks lodge call themselves -- catchy, huh?) was tired of
seeing those snotty yuppies from California and Boston getting all the
media attention for raising money to save the seals, or help a beached
whale back to sea, or get cable TV for the Tibetan snow leopard at the
San Diego zoo, so she decided to go for pure shock headline value and
smack the Pork Queen with a pie, right in the bazoo. A sharp-eyed,
keen-witted investigative photographer just happened to be standing
about four feet away, and, instantly recognizing a hot news story in the
making, managed to preserve for all time the seconds following the
unprovoked attack.

There, in lurid black and white, on the front page, was the poor
Pork Queen, staggered by shock, Cool Whip dripping from her chin,
looking almost obscene with great white blobs of it framing her open
mouth and plopping onto her prize-winning bosom. There, arm still
rigidly extended, was the assailant, cruel lips curled back from her
teeth, her snarling face frozen in the act of hurling an obscenity in
the wake of the pie. There, crowded around, were the milling throng of
pork loving well-wishers, whose happy afternoon in the pleasant summer
sun was shattered by the sudden assault.

No one saw it coming. It is not known how the assailant, a woman
in her mid-thirties, was able to approach to within two feet of the
newly crowned Queen while carrying a whole cream pie. Pork Festival
officials refused to comment on the absence of any security team, though
an unofficial source close to the Pork Festival Organizing Committee is
reported to have said, "We just never thought of it. Nothing like this
has ever happened before. Everybody was stunned."

Now, I just don't get these pig crusaders. I mean, do they really
think a pig's life can get much better than lying around eating all day?
What else could a pig possibly want? A pig farm is heaven to a pig for
Chrissakes. He don't have to do nothing. Just eat and sleep. You ever
drive by a pig farm and see any of them out cutting the barbed wire
fence? Digging an escape tunnel? Ever see a headline about a gang of
disgruntled pigs overpowering a farmhand and making a break for it?
Hell no! They love it there! You try to take a pig that's been living
on a farm, eating its fool head off, sleeping in nice cool mud all the
time, and toss him out to fend for himself, and you'll have one pissed-
off porker.

Oh, I know, you're saying, "But they're gonna kill him." Yeah, the
little oinker is doomed. But hey, cousin, ain't we all? At least they
get to go in the prime of life after having a great time, instead of
aging out in the wild, getting sicker, forgetting how to find food
'cause they got Alzheimer's, becoming prey to any passing wildcat or
pack of wolves. They're snuffed quick and easy, and given a careful
inspection by officials of the U.S. Government. They're honored, for
crying out loud. No wild pig is ever going to get that kind of
attention. Then their parts are used, and I mean pretty much every last
bit of 'em, to feed people who like the way dead pigs taste. What could
be a nobler end than that, after a life of complete luxury and
pampering? Especially for a freakin' pig. I mean, let's face it, no
pig is ever going to amount to much in the academic world. They aren't
likely to win any prizes for literature or invent a cure for psoriasis.
The least they can do in return for being bred, fed, and looked after is
give a little back to the system that took care of them.

So to the Meat Stinkers, I say: Find something better to do with
your time than tossing pies at Pork Queens. What kind of life is that
for a grown person? If you want to change the world, invent something
useful. Start a business and put people to work. Found a leper colony.
Smack Geraldo Rivera in the face with a pie. Do something worthwhile
like that, and leave the Pork Lovers -- and the pigs -- alone.