Diving pig's owner blames rodeo for its demise

Officials say they're still investigating what went wrong near the dive tank

By Claire Osborn

AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

As soon as Big Red stepped onto the ramp that led out of the diving tank, he was a goner, said the pig's owners, who blame the Star of Texas Fair & Rodeo for the pig's death.

A faulty ground wire in a meter box caused the pig to be electrocuted Thursday, Virgil Randall said.

Rodeo officials did not return calls Tuesday, but they issued a press release Monday saying that the pig's death remains under investigation.

Randall and his wife, Velma, who live in Arkansas, own Randall's High Diving Racers, which includes a pig-diving show. Rodeo officials would not say what went wrong, Virgil Randall said Tuesday.

He said he plans to sue rodeo officials as well as a spokeswoman for People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, who blamed him for the pig's death.

PETA sent a letter to the U.S. Department of Agriculture on Tuesday asking that Randall's license to exhibit animals be revoked. Randall knew about the problems with electricity but let the pig dive anyway, according to the letter.

Randall said the only problem he was aware of before the pig died was low voltage. Electricity is used to provide power for his amplifiers and to illuminate the ramp that the pigs use to climb out of the diving tank.

The 4-month-old pig dove off a 4-foot-high diving board into a water tank, Randall said. Big Red sank to the tank's bottom after touching the ramp, he said.

Randall said the water was so charged with electricity that he couldn't get into the tank until all the power was off, which took a few minutes.

"I jumped in the water and gave the pig mouth-to-mouth," he said.

Velma Randall grabbed Sweet Georgia Brown, which had dived into the water at the same time as Big Red, and hauled it out by the ear before it touched the ramp, Virgil Randall said. He said his wife received a shock as she got the pig out.

"It's just lucky that my wife's alive and I am, too, because if I'd jumped in there right away, you'd be looking at fried meat," Virgil Randall said.

Sweet Georgia Brown was kept under observation by a veterinarian but returned to the show Tuesday, he said.

Randall said he had been running the pig show for 15 years and never had a problem until last week.

As banjo music fades into the distance, I wonder to myself, could there be any connection between this story and the recent story on Hogzilla?

"'I jumped in the water and gave the pig mouth-to-mouth,' he said." I'm waiting anxiously for A.P. to comment on this!

between this (mouth to mouth on a pig) and the other post about the Oregon Football player heisting the homosexual sheep, there might need to be a new catagory of topics.

From: Boliver
General Delivery
Lizard Lick, Tn

Dear Momma,
I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, and that fungus under your toe nails is clearing up, and that you will soon be out of Seg and back in general population. Sorry that the visitation guards saw me trying to kiss your cheek through the mesh. I feel like it's my fault that they took your good time and put you in Seg. I knew they had that no contact policy there, but dang it, Momma, I've missed you so bad, and the trailer is just so empty when you're away, and, well I just nearly broke down and cried when you tried to tell me how to unclog the toilet, you're so good with fixing everything. I guess it was just one of those automatic reflexes, I couldn't help it, I just wanted to kiss my momma once more. I think we should get us a lawyer and sue the D.A. for violation of your silver rights, since you lost that 38 days of good time.

Enough of that sadness, I thought I'd tell you why Gulliver hasn't written lately. Well, I know he can't write, but I mean I thought I'd tell you why he hasn't dictated any letters to you in a while. The rodeo came through a couple weeks ago, over at the fairgrounds. Gulliver had gone over to the SPJST hall in Hogwaller to celebrate passing his driver's test, and he had a few too many. Luckily he forgot where he parked the station wagon so he didn't get another DWI, but since he walked the shortcut back home, he passed right by all the goings on at the rodeo. You know how he likes quality entertainment, so he decided to go over to the midway for a look at the bearded lady. I know you need to do your scalp treatments, so I'll hurry along with this and cut it short. Gulliver got a corn dog and passed this big swimming pool. Well, being as it was Saturday night and all, and since no one was around, he finished his corn dog, climbed in that pool and kind of relaxed there for a few minutes before taking in the sideshow. Things happened quick after that, and the best the deputies can figure is that Gulliver's ankle monitor somehow shorted out ... you remember how you tried to show him that he could light cigarettes off it if he moved a couple of those wires around? I guess he didn't follow your directions right, because that thing started sputtering and popping, and knocked Gulliver clean out. Wouldn't you know it, a few minutes later, somebody walked a pig out on a diving board up over that pool, and instead of looking to see if anybody was in there, lo and behold, they let that pig jump off into that thing. You'll probably read about it in the paper, but let me be the one to tell you, that pig didn't make it. Gulliver will probably be alright, the shock wasn't enought to kill him, probably because of all the hair on his body, but I think they're going to add a year or two to his probation for unauthorized use of a swimming pool or some other flimsy cheesy little thing like that. We got a letter from somebody named Peta today, I think he's a foreigner of maybe from up north, because he didn't leave a last name, just Peta. I'll see if I can decipher it and let you know if it means we've won any contests or if the IRS has found out about that second job you had over at the truck stop. I hope your new tattoo stops bleeding soon, try to make sure that inmate washes her needle before putting any more on you, okay? Better go now,
Your son,
Boliver

Big Mabel
Dept of Corrections


Dear Boliver (and Gulliver, if you're conscious and not in jail):

I've been worried about the dogs. I know how cranky they get when I'm away from home. Last time they wouldn't even sleep in my bed since I wasn't there with them. What I want you to do is take my waders and stuff my long handles into them, then put my Opryland T-shirt, the one I got Little Jimmy Dickens to sign (I never could bring myself to wash that shirt, it's been like a family heirloom that I wanted to pass down to my grandchildren, but neither of you two lazy, no good children of your fathers would ever get hitched to a woman, don't get me started) on over the waders. You can take my good wig, the one I wear to play bingo in, off the styrofoam head and tuck it into the T-shirt. I believe that will fool the dogs into thinking I'm in there sleeping. I just don't want them laying off in my closet for 6 or 8 months, mooning over me not being there. You do that, hear? Those dogs better be in good shape when I get back, or I'll turn you in to Crimestoppers for cash money!
Then, I want you to set up my trot line. Don't bait it for catfish, you can catch plenty of those with your hands. After the next big rain, tie the trot line off near the bend in the river. Just put the hooks about 8 inches below the line and bait them with big pieces of hominy. Don't let the bait go more than 8 inches below the water, or the ducks won't dive for it. Be sure and check that trotline regular, because when the ducks get hemmed up on it and nobody collects them, the big catfish will come up and eat them. I've been hankering for some duck stew when I get home, so I'm counting on you boys to catch me some good ones on the trot line.
You boys make your momma proud now, and remember to lick that knife off before you stick it back in the butter.

Love,
Momma

P.S. And nobody better be pawning my banjo, dulcimer or harp before'n I get out of the big house cause I've got big plans to start a band when I get out. And yes, to answer your anticipated question, my stage attire will involve waders, the autographed t-shirt and the wig. Please don't tease the dogs with my wig. You remember what happened the last time you did that.

Love and send some money to my commissary soon,

Momma

[This message was edited by Greg Gilleland on 03-28-05 at .]

From: Gulliver
Toad Suck, Arkansas

Dear Momma:

The rehab is going real good. I had to hock the banjo to pay for treatment, though. They say I've got a problem with enemas. I don't know what they're talkin' about. Shoot, everyone likes me, 'cept for that pig. And that Shagnasty gal that said I was too rough with her gill plates. That strange Peta feller'll probably like me, too, when he gets that assorted bacon platter I sent to him.

I hope lockdown wasn't too hard on you. Boliver and I don't blame you for what you done, though. I don't take too kindly to strip searches, either.

Keep the faith.

Love,
Gulliver

I wonder if there is a picture in existence that shows the owner of Randall's Diving Pigs giving mouth to mouth to the decendent?

Just curious. Might be a good T-shirt picture for some fellas I know fixing to start a band.

Big Mabel
The Big House
Ad Seg unit

Dear Gulliver and Bolliver:

Just a quick note to ask why you didn't mention your half-brother Tolliver in your letters to me? Is he doing OK? Why hasn't he been to visit me? Since he can't write, I know why he hasn't written. I hope you're not letting him wear my good wig when he goes out on Saturday nights.

You got Big Momma worried. Let me know what Tolliver is up to. Is he still working as a used casket salesman or did he go back to work in the cannery in the crawdad/minnow division?

The family portrait tattoo that I am getting all over my back is almost done. The likenesses are real good, especially since the artist is doing it all freehand and has the shakes. I decided to add my favorite TV performer, Anna Nicole Smith, in the middle of you boys in the family portrait tattoo. Yeah, I know she's no kin to us, but when I see her show on TV, somewhere in the back of my gizzard I get a warm feeling like she could be kin to us. Besides, she has had many of her relatives tattoo likenesses of herself on their bodies, so it just feels right.

Gotta go now. But I really need to know how Tolliver is doing. When I was out working on the road gang the other day I thought I saw his daddy driving past, but I couldn't be sure. I only knew his daddy for about 10 minutes. Dang, why does love have to be so sad?

Don't forget to send me some money. I need $5 for a new pair of corn pads. Also, we been making hooch in my cellblock (don't ask what we use for a punch bowl), and that helps pass the time, but I need to pay for my share of the corn we use to make the corn whiskey from. Also, I need to buy some more bic razors, because the tattoo artist has to shave my back every time she starts up again on her masterpiece.

Tell Gulliver it's ok about pawning the banjo to pay for his rehab, except it must be a cheap rehab to be able to pay for it with that cheap banjo. I bought that banjo new last year for about $19.00. Tell him to lay off the coffee receipes, if you know what I mean. Caffeine is just another addiction.

When I get paroled, I'd sure like to see all three of you boys pick me up in your matching powder blues tuxes.

Your Momma Mabel

[This message was edited by Greg Gilleland on 03-31-05 at .]

[This message was edited by Greg Gilleland on 03-31-05 at .]