Dec 2, 2011

the porkliest enterprise.

So, as of today, I own 2 pigs.  Sure, there are 4 total in the photo, and 3 unseen, totaling in a squealing 7, but my wife and I had to get our hands on two of these pasty meat sacks.  Not because they appear to be cute, nor because we plan on taking them to the butcher, to eventually plumb our freezer with frozen bacon bricks, but for the commodity value of their genetic potential.  

These piglets were purchased at $50 a plop.  Now, the going rate for a 250 pound porker is $0.90 per pound.  So simply enough, with the available location (as there is plenty of that to spread around Pennsylvania's anus, which York county often resembles), and the always abundant feed, it was only logical that pigs factored themselves into the never-ending, worm farm's economic equation.  So, after a few calculator pumps and arithmetic curls, it shows that a 250 pound pig will yield $225.  Not a bad return, considering it only takes 3 months for these little 60 pound renegade, teenage piglets to turn into retirement-ready penchant porkers weighing 250 pounds.  Now, add a few more of these pigs into the economic equation, and then your profits multiply with the amount of owned pigs!  So, regarding my own situation, holding rights to 2 of these gold sacks, my initial $100 investment will yield a return of $450.  It's almost like raising your own kids, compressing their growth into a 12 week cycle, then auctioning them off to the hungriest butcher, all without the guilt!  Certainly, that's worthy for a few nights out, the latest ereader gadget, or, more boringly, bills.    

Now, I have to admit that it does sadden me to acknowledge that I am rejoicing in the glory of financial gain, rather than the unique, and often unheard of experience of raising and selling pigs.  It is confusing, as i'm contemplating the lost identity that I had so righteously developed and engineered during my early 20's.  But rather than fear the change, I must accept the transformation, and pursue forward with souling dismissal that my sulinery vision embeds upon the spectated.  

Sorry pigs, but unapologeticaly, you are nothing more than means to an end.  

Don't look at me that way!  



Post a Comment