not to hang out with, to eat. i don't have a tattoo of a pig or anything, but i like them fine, and when given the opportunity to shoot one in the brain or see one shot in the brain so that i may suck on its entrails and other parts, i'm down. that's what is called cheering me up from some manic depression. >> bang, and this pig is like pauly, you won't see him no more. even with the brain dead, the heart still goes on beating, sort of like pick a kardashian. in the case, however, the last few beats of the heart are absolutely necessary to pump all that red, red, crave in a bucket for sanguinacco. looking good.