Da’ Swine Intervention

A bunch of my jackass friends and I convene every Thursday night to talk about life and how to live it. Okay, that’s bullshit. It’s really more of an excuse to knock a few back than anything else. But in between all the beer drinking we do discuss a number of compelling topics, as evidenced by the following opening line of a story I heard a while back:

“My brother-in-law bought a pig that was born with no anus.”

I know. Tragic. Can you imagine having to waddle to the trough of life with no anus to help you process all the shit that said life subjects you to?

Know what I wanna do? Befriend this anus-less pig. Even if he can’t ever find relief, at least, in me, he’ll be able to find support. But how will I provide such support?

I know. I could introduce him to some new friends. “Pig with no anus, I’d like you to meet Horse with no name.”

I could help him find a nice home. (Can a pig with no anus buy a house with no credit?)

Hang on–phone’s ringing. It’s Bono, from U2. He wants the pig with no anus to know that he could always live where the streets have no name. Solid point, Bono. You can go back to saving the world now.

Wow, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt my tribute to the pig with no anus by bashing a man with no humility. But our sensational swine, I’m told, has taken no offense. It seems he doesn’t much care for U2, anyhow. His favorite band?

C’mon people–pigs without anuses prefer Men Without Hats.

And without all that slippery pig shit on the dance floor? Safety Dance? You’re damn straight it is.

And when a pig with no anus meets a beautiful female pig at the club, do you know what he does? A pig with no anus takes the sexy sow back to where the streets have no name so they can have sex. With no strings attached, naturally.

Whereby our sensational swine will spawn a new generation of pigs with no anuses who will walk in their father’s hoofprints. Without, I might add, worrying about stepping in copious piles of pig shit.

Just one brave pig, refusing to give up, gritting and (one would have to assume) grunting his way through life with little if any thought given to the fact that he’s gotten the shit end of the stick (so to speak). Even so – just look at how much he’s capable of.

Do you know what else the pig with no anus is capable of? Inspiring a post with no point.

Oink, oink, y’all.

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