Modern-art-appreciatin'-PiggyPiggy is back and all he does is walk around the house saying, “Ciao Baby…Ciao Baby.” I swear I’m going to change his name to Prosciutto and see if the Italians get the hint next time.

I’m constantly regaled with stories of his exploits in Italy. Most of them involve public acts of depredation or private acts of debauchery that can’t be repeated in polite or even downright rude conversation.

How much is one-way plane fare to Italy for one pig named Prosciutto?

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