Friday, September 3, 2004

An Exploration Of Porcine Exploration

Memo to Austin Gullette: YOU ARE FAMOUS.
Over time, this site has had many potential mascots. Shrimpy McShrimp. The Big-Eyed Taco Ninja. Halle Berry. But today, we open a very special place in our hearts and minds for Austin Gullette, age 45, resident of West Monroe, Louisiana, and an authentic, genuine, documentable, Southern pigfucker.
And not in a metaphorical manner, either. This isn't like when I call Dennis Hastert a complete asshole for trying to insinuate that George Soros gets his MoveOn money from drug cartels. On national TV. The Speaker of the House just casually throwing out libel. Hastert is a COMPLETE ASSHOLE, but I don't mean he is actually, literally, a rectal sphincter without any pieces missing.
Austin Gullette, on the other hand, was arrested for fucking a pig. Legally, they refer to it as a "crime against nature", but the crime was fucking, and the representative of Nature that received unto the fucking was a 125 pound, Vietnamese, pot-bellied pig. And I thought I felt bad when all the gamers went nuts over Jenna Jameson. Imagine living in Louisiana and knowing that one of your own not only fucked a pig, but got caught at it. Probably didn't even get to finish before he had to run off into the bayou, pants around his ankles, desperately trying to call upon his limited mental capacity for some kind of excuse that would get him out of this pigfucking rap, and failing.
I almost feel bad for the South, that's how embarassing this is. I mean, yeah, when I talk about the South, and the inbred pigfuckers that reside there, part of me did believe in a strictly abstract sense that yes, some of them had, when it comes to pork, probably verbed the noun, as it were. But that was abstract. It's different actually reading about it in print. Actually attaching a name to the dick attached to the pig. It starts to seem almost gloating. Almost morbid. Almost... wrong.
And it would stay that way, except that, like a perverted Paul Harvey, you don't know the rest... of the story. See, it wasn't his pig. Apparently, Austin Gullette felt that having intimate relations with a pink, snouted animal was not quite Southern enough. No, he had to have sex with... HIS SISTER'S PIG. Just that faintest implication of incest, like when you make a martini by rinsing the glass out with vermouth. Was it a crime of opportunity? Was his sister's pig the only one he had regular access to? Or was it some kind of sublimated stand-in for his own immediate relative? The world may never know.
It was the sister that caught him, by the way. That's gotta ruin your week. You hear some squealing, you head out into the yard to see what's wrong, and hello, Porky. And the worst part is, the penalty for pigfucking in Louisiana is either $2,000, or up to five years in prison. So either he's gonna be hitting her up for the money to pay the fine he incurred by molesting her pig, or in a few years, he'll be out, and there'll be some REALLY awkward family dinners from that point on. "Well, I'll carve the roast now, assuming Austin didn't have his WAY WITH IT while I was finishing up the coleslaw. Well, Austin? Did you drop your PANTS and have FILTHY SEX with our DINNER?" At least, that's how I'd imagine it would go. And Austin couldn't even get indignant. When you've humped livestock, you really can't ask that people just "let it go".
But lest you think I'm just rambling on, trying to say "sex with a pig" as many different ways as I can, there is one final detail to the story that I've been saving until the end. And that is the pig's name.
The pig's name.... was "P-Pie". P-PIE. It's like the pig was pre-destined to be a euphemism for its own fate! "Austin was gettin' himself a little bit of p-pie in the back yard, if you know what I mean." I hope someone's already snapped up the film rights to "American P-Pie.".
The South has risen again, and its name is Austin Gullette. American. Southern. Fucker of pigs. Welcome to the annals of history, Austin. You've earned it the old-fashioned way. With your sweat, your toil, and your insatiable desire to stick your dick in a pig. In the immortal words of Hee-Haw, SA-LUTE!