The Pig – A Sitcom
The next time you’re in Minnesota, take a trip south down ol’ Highway 52. You’ll pass through Cannon Falls, where Nirvana’s In Utero was recorded, Rochester, home of the Mayo Clinic, and Chatfield, a worthless toilet of a town whose only use is the liquor store. You will then run the final, foul stretch through Amish country where the locals, in an attempt to undo generations of inbreeding, will occasionally proposition outsiders for their baby gravy. Make it through all that, and you will arrive in Lanesboro, where the next great sitcom was recently born.
While in this town, my friend Rickson brought to my attention that, for the right price, I could get involved in a “Greased Piglet Catch.” This activity is exactly what it sounds like: the locals grease up a young, muscly piglet and release him into some sort of enclosure, where he is chased around by toothless rednecks, or none-the-wiser tourists. Alledgedly, the nubile body of the piglet, combined with the low viscosity of whatever greasing agent is used, make for an extremely tough catch. We never did make it out to one of these displays of small-town debauchery, but I had questions.
I asked my pal Rickson whether or not I could keep the pig if I caught it. He shook his long, disgusting red hair, and said something, I don’t really remember what. We were drinking beer that I got in Chatfield. But anyways, at some point we developed the idea for a TV show where I catch the pig and it comes to live with me, eventually turning my apartment into a “sty.” A sitcom such as this provides countless opportunites for hilarity:
-In accordance with every great sitcom, there would obviously be sexual tension between the pig and I. Maybe we’ll drag that out for a while, in a classic “Will they, won’t they?” sequence of events. Maybe the pig and I will date other people to try to make each other jealous, masking our true feelings and tightening the tension even further, culminating in a hammy, snorting explosion of emotion in the season finale.
-Maybe we get in a fight, and I stuff an apple down its throat and roast that sucker.
-Actually, I don’t see any possible way this thing would make it through a whole season, ’cause at some point I’m gonna be eating that pig. There’s no way I would let a supple meal of ham, pork chops and bacon walk around on four legs through my apartment without eating it.
-Or is there? If I was able to catch one greased up, saucy little piglet, I’m confident that I could do it again. Then that one can mate with the one I have, so then it’s like a never ending Icee machine, only with pig. Delicious, delicious pig.
-Maybe some hippie-vegetarian spider weaves the words “Some Pig,” “Terrific,” and “Humble” in a web above my bed one night. Out of spite I slaughter the pig, then wrap the spider in its own web, and run it over with my car.
This is just a brainstorm, the whole thing will be fleshed out at a later date, probably in time for pilot season.
Here’s the Blong. This is possibly the first hip-hop song ever, from 1968. It goes with the swine theme from today as well. Pigmeat Markham – Here Comes the Judge. So so funky.