In theory, all meat-based dishes in the bowl should be a constant reminder of the fragility of life. One minute, you're living high on the hog - or you are a hog - and the next, you're part of some middle manager's second bowl of noodles and ground-up chunks of your carcass. He doesn't even finish you. The busboy scrapes your remains into a giant bucket without a thought, and your earthly form returns from whence it came - the padlocked dumpster behind the Olive Garden.

Pictured here is Mortality.

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