The American Pig

Why, why did the little piggy cry wee, wee, wee all the way home? All the way? Why indeed. He loves his family, loves his country, and had a good job. But times have changed.
The official American Pig has been outsourced. Yes, that's right. That's what I said, the American Pig has been outsourced. This poor little capitalist pig, is crying all the way home to tell his family, that an Indian Pig has taken his job. Oh no! Oh have mercy! Why? Why?
Because the Big Bad Wolf, that now runs the world, and has allegiance to nothing but money and making more of it, sent the poor little piggy's job to India. And the Big Bad Wolf could care less about the poor little pig's tears. What...what will he tell his family now?
He was so skilled. He conducted himself with such expertise. He got the better education that this country, his country, required. For years he learned all of the intricate techniques of being the official American Pig. No one could wave the flag like him. He was a trained professional. He could even wave two at once, that's high level expertise. And he could take all of the abuse, the name calling, with complete professionalism..."you American Pig, you capitalist pi-i-e-i-e-i-g! Spethh. I spit on you!" He was proud to take those horrid gobs that covered him for his country's sake. He wore them like a dignitary's robe. He was like a king in his coat of many colors.
Yes, that's right, he was a stinken American Pig.
But the Big Bad Wolf doesn't like the little piggy anymore. He used to like him. The little piggy and his friend that went to market with him, helped make the Big Bad Wolf what he is today. At one time he was just a plain old bad wolf. But now, because of the little piggy and his market buddy, he is a Big Bad Wolf. Is he thankful? Does he express gratitude? No! No he doesn't. As a matter of fact, he thinks he pays way too much for the little piggy. The Big Bad Wolf doesn't think he owes him a job at all. The Big Bad Wolf thinks the little piggy is lucky that he doesn't just eat him for dinner (but he'll get to that in time).
So now, the global market place has replaced the little piggy's neighborhood market. Globalization has infected his workplace like some funked up bacteria and there seems to be no antibiotic that will kill it. No cure at all. No super drug to be found. The cursed H1B virus is sucking the very life out of all of the little piggies. (Many believe the Big Bad Wolf had the C.I.A. purposely inject it into unsuspecting little pigs. While that allegation is widely believed, it is hard to prove.)
"It's worldwide, it's contagious," the poor little piggy screams to his family. "Everyone has caught it. We have to run...RUN!" But there really is no where to run to. We have become one big global tower of Babel, all joined together to make a great name for ourselves, and yet...hating our own.
The little piggy seriously regrets working for the Big Bad Wolf now.
He seriously regrets giving him the benefit of the doubt, he knew about his bad history, his bad reputation. He knew how the Big Bad Wolf blew apart many other piggy communities and ate his little friends as a gourmet meal. (Everyone knows that any meal tastes better if it's dripping in bacon.) But he chose to ignore the warning signs, and he sold his soul to the Big Bad Wolf. "Why can't they wave their own flags," he wonders, "why do they have to wave my flag."
The poor little piggy is very sad.
Now what will the little piggy do? He does not want to die...not yet! He had so much more to give. But now, since the foreign piggies have taken his flag, the poor little American Pig knows he can't go to market any longer and he knows now, sadly, that there will be no more roast beef. He will have to go into hiding.
Why?
Because now...now...he's going to be someone's bacon. Someone's breakfast. He has been fattened for the kill. And he knows how tasty he looks to the marketeers.
He's what's for dinner.
After all, what good is an American Pig with no job? No good at all.
Might as well eat him.

American Pig T-shirts and gifts are available at The Smokin' Frog T-Shirts and Gifts.

Pig Out!

Yeah, that's right, I'm a pig. So what?
It was good, there was a lot of it, and I ATE IT ALL.
Thanksgiving Dinner. Ahhh!!! I could eat turkey every day of the week. And I could eat a lot of it and ALL of the trimmings. And I don't feel an ounce of guilt or shame over it. But people have said some terrible things to me about my shape and size. What do they want..."I'm a pig" I tell them. It's as if they have no compassion or empathy at all. One even suggested stomach stapling. STOMACH STAPLING? "I'm a pig! And I 'want' to eat a lot. Why would I want my stomach stapled?" I may not be the brightest pig in the stie, but wouldn't that make my stomach smaller? I want it enlarged, not shrunk.
I love to eat and I'm comfortable in my own body. The sanctimonious crowd may not be comfortable with eating this much, but I say, "Good! More for me. Now get out of the way before I staple your mouth shut."
"Just pass the turkey."
"That stuffing doesn't have bacon in it, does it? Then again, don't tell me."

Pig Out T-shirts in different styles and colors are available at both The Smokin' Frog T-Shirts and Gifts and Crazy-Land T-Shirts.


  Funny Emails:
• Why do people point to their wrist when asking for the time,
  but don't point to their crotch when they ask where the bathroom is?
• The real pains in the ass are permanent.

Shop early for Christmas gifts. Funny election t-shirts and political t-shirts make fun gifts.