Today is a day before weekend which is right before the National Elbonian Military Day, which is a national holiday. This means that today we work only up to noon, and on Monday we do not work at all. Great news for almost all concerned - except for pigs. Why pigs?
Well, Elbonian national cuisine revolves around pigs and grill. There is no better way to celebrate a national holiday then with a nice grill - which means that today is Black Friday for pigs. They shall die in thousands. God bless their..well, spirits, I suppose, since learned theologians tell us that pigs have no souls. In this regard, they* are somewhat similar to communists, atheists, robots and foreign cars, at least according to US extreme right wing Christians.
Some elements of Elbonia are more patriotic then others, and I happen to work in just such an element. More patriotic, in this case, means that we have started with grilled pigs already today, and this whole long Friday seems to be marked by smells of grilled food, free beer and of course, our 2nd most favorite national sport, grilled pig wrestling. The rules for this sport are simple and brutal, and usually a bigger pig wins. Since I am relatively small pig, I thought that all that jazz is really not for me, and decided instead to celebrate The International Towel Day, by writing my blog, wearing towel, and loudly reciting the wonderful Vogon poetry to any unfortunate who wanders close by.
All this talk of pigs reminded my that I should remind my readers that Elbonia is not unique in her love for pigs - we share it with our spiritual neighbour, Israel. Pigs are beloved in both our countries, and we treat them with great respect, kinda like we treat our cousins. There might, after all, be something true in that ancient legend of Elbonians being a lost 23rd tribe of Israel...
Prostetnik Vogon Jeltz's immortal poem that I recite today:
"Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
On a lurgid bee.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't!
Gashee morphousite, thou expungiest quoopisk!Fripping lyshus wimbgunts, awhilst moongrovenly kormzibs.Bleem miserable venchit! Bleem forever mestinglish asunder frapt!Gerond withoutitude form into formless bloit, why not then? Moose."
*Pigs, of course, not theologians.
Moose.
Well, Elbonian national cuisine revolves around pigs and grill. There is no better way to celebrate a national holiday then with a nice grill - which means that today is Black Friday for pigs. They shall die in thousands. God bless their..well, spirits, I suppose, since learned theologians tell us that pigs have no souls. In this regard, they* are somewhat similar to communists, atheists, robots and foreign cars, at least according to US extreme right wing Christians.
Some elements of Elbonia are more patriotic then others, and I happen to work in just such an element. More patriotic, in this case, means that we have started with grilled pigs already today, and this whole long Friday seems to be marked by smells of grilled food, free beer and of course, our 2nd most favorite national sport, grilled pig wrestling. The rules for this sport are simple and brutal, and usually a bigger pig wins. Since I am relatively small pig, I thought that all that jazz is really not for me, and decided instead to celebrate The International Towel Day, by writing my blog, wearing towel, and loudly reciting the wonderful Vogon poetry to any unfortunate who wanders close by.
All this talk of pigs reminded my that I should remind my readers that Elbonia is not unique in her love for pigs - we share it with our spiritual neighbour, Israel. Pigs are beloved in both our countries, and we treat them with great respect, kinda like we treat our cousins. There might, after all, be something true in that ancient legend of Elbonians being a lost 23rd tribe of Israel...
Prostetnik Vogon Jeltz's immortal poem that I recite today:
"Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits
On a lurgid bee.
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes
And hooptiously drangle me
With crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don't!
Gashee morphousite, thou expungiest quoopisk!Fripping lyshus wimbgunts, awhilst moongrovenly kormzibs.Bleem miserable venchit! Bleem forever mestinglish asunder frapt!Gerond withoutitude form into formless bloit, why not then? Moose."
*Pigs, of course, not theologians.
Moose.
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