When the gaze of existence falls on you, will there be room on the raft? Will sanity shield you? Will you choose the sham or the substance?
Proper pigs know that most every audience since the time of Homer and Aesop has much preferred the human imitation of a pig rather than the genuine squeak of a pinched porker.
There has always been a regiment of rafts onto which humans could climb to save their sanity – a refuge for when the abyss looks back.
Pigs merely offer up a snort of concession to the many artifices, acts of faithlessness and Judas kisses that assail their lives.
the Porcine Oracle
Humans will always believe in some otherness floating out just beyond their daily lives. A clean slate and some clean laundry on a small craft as buoyant as hope
Yet, they will likely do just as their ancestors have done since long before Homer and Aesop… Choosing from among the most charismatic and successful gods or performers and calling that raft faith or truth.
For pigs, there is no raft to belly up to. The simple prosaic pleasures of another day lived through had better be enough.