I have to admit: pigs are cute animals. Whenever we have to butcher pigs at home for a gathering or a celebration, you kind of have to turn away from the squealing animal for the guilt that’s in it. There’s nothing more heartbreaking that watching a pig cry – literally – as the butcher’s knife cuts the jugular. Every memory you have of Babe, and the Three Little Pigs, go through your head. For once, you’re all for animal rights.
Pots of lechon kawali, adobo and dinuguan later, you no longer mind, much less give a shit. Just a day ago, the cooks and butchers in your backyard were cold, cruel animal-killers who didn’t give a hoot about the pig’s feelings. Soon you’re wolfing down chicharon bulaklak, laughing out loud over the fate of the poor animal while Red Horse starts to circulate through your veins.
The local health authorities – with all their indisputable credentials – have issued a warning to the non-credentialed populace to avoid kissing and hugging in public because of the possibility of swine flu (let’s just call it “swinefluenza”) turning into a global pandemic. I suppose this swine flu thing is serious enough for our esteemed epidemiologists to say something I can wholeheartedly agree with (even if they do work for The Government).
The good news: swinefluenza can’t be passed on by eating pork. Which means that pork lovers like myself and a couple of dozen people in Congress (I’m talking about meat) will not contract this potentially fatal disease. Misanthropes like myself who would probably burninate because of kissing will have little to zero chances of contracting the disease. If surgical masks won’t be enough to protect me from swinefluenza, I could fashion finger gloves out of condoms.
Basically, the health authorities – again, with their unquestionable credentials – are telling the non-credentialed masses to avoid kissing, hugging, and quite possibly offer the implication that we avoid porking altogether… which works a lot to my benefit, really. See, when you never kissed or hugged anyone in public before, you’re pretty much safe from swinefluenza. So yeah, I’m pretty much alive by the time all this is over (not like it’s Armageddon or anything, but you never really know). I don’t know about people who live their lives along the lines of a lot of pork, and a lot of sex.
The diseased-looking stuffed pigs at the crane games can wait, although I’ll stay away from cuts of pork that look green, and stay well away from sneezing pigs. I haven’t seen one, but I’m not taking any chances.