Column: A Christmas (dinner) story: Harriet Hog pursues a pardon


I received the following letter and I am passing it on to the White House as Harriet, the Holiday Hog has requested.

An open letter to President Trump and First Lady Melania:

Let me introduce myself. I am Harriet, the Holiday Hog. Royalty runs through my pig parts. Sooo please do not associate me with Miss Piggy. a paltry princess of pork. You’d never catch me with a slimy green frog. And Porky Pig, the cartoon character, is definitely not in my family tree.

I am a bipartisan pig with a purpose. Why do you pardon a turkey every year and not a pig? Holy hammocks! You are fickle with fairness. Now, I don’t have a beef with turkey, but oinkers are far more patriotic than gobblers … and smarter. We roll in the glorious American mud. We strut around at county fairs every summer as 4-H projects. A plate of eggs would be nothing without a side of bacon.

Mr. President, being a mammal on a mission, I will not be distracted by the recent impeachment fiasco in our capital. Those warring warthogs in congress will not stand in my way of freedom from a hot oven and a carving knife. Sweet cranberry sauce! I want to live.

Baked hams are a family tradition and served as a Yuletide favorite. The economy gets a boost at Christmas as chefs glaze us in gooey pineapple sauce. And piggy banks are as infamous as turkey drums.

In 2018, Miami-Dade County Mayor Carlos Gimenez pardoned little pigs Layla and Luna. Read their pig pardoning story in the Miami Herald at www.herald.com. America is hankering for an annual and national pig pardoning.

Mr. President, I am requesting a pig pardon for the Christmas holiday. I don’t want my rump to be the roast on a holiday dinner table. Since politicians scramble to save their own rump—so am I. It’s absolutely scandalous that a porker has not received a presidential pardon in the twenty-first century. And no fighting over pig policies. My snout is ready and able to sniff out conspirators.

As two turkeys are given reprieve, I am asking that Boris, my boar boyfriend, be exonerated along with me. Afterall, Boris is related to Peppa the Pig. He knows how to dine with swine. However, Boris hates pig puns. So President Trump better tame his tacky tongue.

Yes, you will witness me squeal with delight when a pardon is forthcoming. I know Queen Elizabeth would never squeal, well, maybe if she sat on a whoopee cushion. But Hog Heaven and Pork Paradise will be delayed for me if I am crowned in the White House Rose Garden. And Melania has to promise not to upstage me in her Ralph Lauren Caitrin jumpsuit and pink pumps.

My latter days will be spent parading in my royal pig-pen palace, posing at pork pageants, and posting selfies on social media.

Sincere thanks from Harriet Hog.

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Melissa Martin, Ph.D., is an author, columnist, educator, and therapist. She lives in Ohio. Contact her at melissamcolumnist@gmail.com.Reach

Melissa Martin, Ph.D., is an author, columnist, educator, and therapist. She lives in Ohio. Contact her at melissamcolumnist@gmail.com.Reach