Well, if I were a lawyer working for Piggly-Wiggly, I would hire someone like me to dredge up images of that weird Ur-Porky featured in early Merrie Melodies — that fat hog with a slot in his back like a piggy bank. The character I’m too lazy to look for now. But I would hire me to establish some sort of visual evidence of a cartoonish pigginess that was not restricted nor limited to the copyrighted figure of Porky.
If you’re 6 feet tall, you will not fit in one of those barrel cars – even if you only weigh 150 pound – so don’t bother. There’s not enough room to fold your legs in through that little cutout and, if you do manage to get in the barrel it’s probably going to take two people to help you out once you realize there’s no way you’re going to now also hold a baby on your lap. This might be upsetting to the baby. But for the toddler who suddenly gets to ride in her own barrel car because mommy has to hold the baby, this is most definitely a win.
I’m just guessing, anyway. It’s not like I’d know.
Actually, what’s a little deceiving for you, is that you’ll watch several 200 – 250 pound men get nimbly in and out of the barrels before you decide to give it a try. They will mostly be wearing flannel shirts and ball caps that say “John Deere”. This will give you the mistaken impression that there’s plenty of room in the barrel and there would be if you yourself were more barrel shaped and less poster tube shaped.
I also fear that anyone 6 feet tall who managed to get into a metal barrel car would have a more difficult time getting out as the give in the plastic was about the only thing that might release such a person.
Why — why would a pig dress in a butcher’s apron? Would not such a pig find revolting the . . . the cutting-up of his friends and relations into pork chops and . . . and Boston butt and picnic shoulder?
That’s kind of avant-garde.
I thought there was a certain something to it.
“Don’t know. Okay.”
I’ve never understood how Piggly Wiggly avoids getting sued for their clearly Porky-Pig-with-a-deli-hat mascot.
Well, if I were a lawyer working for Piggly-Wiggly, I would hire someone like me to dredge up images of that weird Ur-Porky featured in early Merrie Melodies — that fat hog with a slot in his back like a piggy bank. The character I’m too lazy to look for now. But I would hire me to establish some sort of visual evidence of a cartoonish pigginess that was not restricted nor limited to the copyrighted figure of Porky.
And if anyone’s hiring, I’m available for hire.
What I’m saying is that the similarity is much stronger than just “they’re both anthropomorphized pigs”.
There’s that.
If you’re 6 feet tall, you will not fit in one of those barrel cars – even if you only weigh 150 pound – so don’t bother. There’s not enough room to fold your legs in through that little cutout and, if you do manage to get in the barrel it’s probably going to take two people to help you out once you realize there’s no way you’re going to now also hold a baby on your lap. This might be upsetting to the baby. But for the toddler who suddenly gets to ride in her own barrel car because mommy has to hold the baby, this is most definitely a win.
I’m just guessing, anyway. It’s not like I’d know.
Also, aren’t those the kind of barrels you might use for a pig roast?
Randy Taylor would not fit in one of those barrel cars.
Actually, what’s a little deceiving for you, is that you’ll watch several 200 – 250 pound men get nimbly in and out of the barrels before you decide to give it a try. They will mostly be wearing flannel shirts and ball caps that say “John Deere”. This will give you the mistaken impression that there’s plenty of room in the barrel and there would be if you yourself were more barrel shaped and less poster tube shaped.
Also, can you roast pigs in plastic barrels?
I reckon you can’t. But you could cut up some little kids if they was to be flung around inside some metal barrel with sharp edges to it.
I also fear that anyone 6 feet tall who managed to get into a metal barrel car would have a more difficult time getting out as the give in the plastic was about the only thing that might release such a person.
So I gather.
I’m trying to write good techno music.
It’s a little known fact that all techno music has already been written.
Why — why would a pig dress in a butcher’s apron? Would not such a pig find revolting the . . . the cutting-up of his friends and relations into pork chops and . . . and Boston butt and picnic shoulder?
Perhaps this pig isn’t as wholesome as he looks. Maybe he’s a cannibalistic serial killer.
If I were a sow, I’d keep my piglets far away from his barrels.