This is non-tampered, photographic evidence that there are people who will buy and eat pickled pigs lips. I know this because there is a jar, packed by the innocuously dangerous-sounding company “Farm Fresh Food Supplies,” which was more than half-empty, signifying that various customers at our rest stop in Alabama have purchased and enjoyed this product.
I know they “purchased” it, because the price is clearly marked: $1.69, I assume, for a pair. There is also a set of tongs nearby, allowing you to access your pig’s lips without threat of sticking your hand inside.
I’ve heard of pickled pig’s feet, pig’s knuckles, and the other detritus of the porcine body politic; I’ve been taught that truckers, predominantly of an elder generation, will suck on these body parts as they traverse our country. Yes, I find this disgusting, but I can get behind it as no more repellent than the acquisition of most meat in general.
But sucking on the lips of the pig for hours as you drive? Having your lips attached to those of a long dead – and, I’m told, stunningly smart – animal is a piece of macabre poetry that I didn’t know existed. This is why it is important to get out of your house, to take long trips in the wilderness, and to consort, even briefly, with those ideas that would induce waves of horror in the small intellectual circles you call your own.
I am, I believe, a little bit wiser for the experience.