I would like to begin by saying:
I handled fame exceptionally well.
There were no signs of ego inflation.
No dramatic shifts in personality.
No unreasonable expectations placed upon my followers.
I was, in every sense of the word, gracious.
However…
It has come to my attention that my time in the Top 40 was…
temporary.
One day, I was rising.
Celebrated.
Admired.
Clearly on a trajectory toward global recognition.
The next day?
#73.
Seventy. Three.
I have experienced betrayal before.
Mostly involving late dinners and insufficient snack distribution.
But this?
This felt… organized.
I do not wish to assign blame.
But I will say this:
We had momentum.
And momentum, much like a well-timed mud roll, must be maintained.
The Emotional Toll of Being Important
Fame changes you.
Not outwardly, of course. I remained humble.
But internally?
I began preparing.
For interviews.
For public appearances.
For the responsibility of being a voice for pigs everywhere.
I had already started drafting speeches.
Important speeches.
Speeches that included phrases like:
- “As someone who has always been important…”
- “My journey has not been easy…”
- “I accept this honor on behalf of snacks.”
And now?
Those speeches sit unused.
Much like the sun during this deeply confusing weather cycle.
The Weather Is Acting Like It Also Had Fame for a Day
I would like to file a formal complaint against the atmosphere.
Earlier this week, we experienced:
Sunshine.
Warmth.
Hope.
There were whispers of mud.
Real mud.
Usable mud.
The kind of mud that speaks to your soul.
And then…
Tornado warnings.
I have seen The Wizard of Oz.
I understood the assignment.
I monitored the sky.
I prepared mentally for flight.
Nothing happened.
Which somehow feels worse.
Because immediately after that?
Freezing cold.
Wind.
The kind of wind that touches your ears without consent.
So I did what any reasonable, high-profile pig would do:
I buried myself in my straw like a dignified woodland creature.
Now?
It is warmer.
But raining.
Again.
So the mud exists…
but it is not usable.
An Unexpected Development: Cletus
I do not make friends easily.
This is not a flaw.
This is a standard.
However…
Recent indoor confinement has forced me into close proximity with my goat roommate:
Cletus.
At first, I viewed him as unnecessary.
Loud.
Climby.
Suspiciously enthusiastic about elevated surfaces.
But over time…
I have come to realize something important:
Cletus is useful.
Security, But Make It Goat
Cletus sleeps in the loft.
Which I originally thought was a poor life choice.
However, it turns out this gives him a tactical advantage.
He sees everything.
He hears everything.
He judges everything.
Every time the humans approach…
He alerts me.
Not politely.
Not gently.
But effectively.
I am awakened before they even reach the door, giving me valuable time to:
Reposition myself
Appear composed
Pretend I have been awake and supervising for hours
Enforcement Division
Cletus has also taken it upon himself to handle… conflicts.
If there is a person I do not trust?
He knows.
If there is an animal behaving incorrectly?
He knows.
If there is a general vibe issue?
Handled.
Swiftly.
Decisively.
With his head.
I have not officially appointed him to this role…
But I also have not stopped him.
Which, legally speaking, feels like approval.
A Working Relationship
We do not speak of our arrangement.
There are no contracts.
No formal acknowledgments.
But there is an understanding.
I provide leadership, presence, and strategic oversight.
Cletus provides:
Early warning systems
Unnecessary but effective aggression
And what I can only describe as loft-based surveillance
In Conclusion
I was famous.
The weather is unstable.
The mud is unreliable.
And I may have accidentally acquired a goat.
I will continue to monitor all situations.
Because someone has to.
And historically…
It has been me.
Snoutfully Yours,
🐽Squealexander Hamilton
Editor-in-Chief, Grounded with Nature News
Director of Security (Goat-Assisted)
Formerly Top 40, (Currently Emotionally Recovering)