One of the bonuses of living in Syracuse is the taste of Gianelli sausages during summer barbecue. They make a mean link and I've devoured my share. Driving into work yesterday, I followed a Gianelli sausage truck. I had watched a documentary on the Weather Channel about the floods of Iowa and how many pig farmers lost their stock. The images of Wilbur swimming through muck to climb on stock piles of sand haunted me instantly, as did the mountains of pig carcasses floating in the rivers. The floods were horrendous and I felt a pang for the swine.
Then I saw the Gianelli logo. A quirky pig in a tutu, dancing happily on a semi. The irony of a porker in a ballerina outfit pulled up way too high stuck with me. I don't see how a pig could be happy that it might become a sausage. My mind wandered to my days of being a vegetarian and I reminisced about the pros and cons of such a lifestyle. Our canine teeth are evident of our meat-eating ways, but the art work we create to represent such delicacy is what has me thinking. Sausage. That's my post for today.
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