Faith at Swine Time

The religiokitsch hodgepodge blew me away, and made me realize that, having no faith, I am more easily scandalized by the commingling of banjo-playing pigs, angel heads, and praying hands than most of those in attendance. What would Jesus do? Probably burn down this stall.

Plenty of light industry in the area, with the same concerns about quality control. Weber was wrong.

Almost bought it, but felt I would have to explain myself to the vendor, who seemed eager to Talk. After you've eaten your third funnel cake, the oral momentum is unstoppable. Binge religion.

More binging, here on hydrocarbons.

Then, from out of nowhere, doting racism. The foreground sheds light on the background: how many frogs can play a sax?

Interesting how the racist thematic draws on antitheses for justification and vitality. Oppressed whites find a rallying point in a counteridentity, fighting against the supposedly tyrranical impositions of Black History Month, with its torchlight parades and public floggings. Achieving martyrdom, some oppressed whites are born again as eternally happy banjo-playing pigs, images of whom are recorded above. Hatred of Clinton serves as a propellant for this nitro. If anyone -- including the maker of these obscenities -- really believes the message, it's impossible to say (see the note on page 1). But it is there for sale, waiting for endorsement.

That's it. My initial impulse was to go on and on, got out my copy of Buck-Morss on Walter Benjamin, but then thought, "Hey, after all, it's Swine Time, not the Arcades." Let me know what you think, and if you'd like a more detailed copy of any of these pictures.