Transcript

The meme began in 2016 when a painting of two large pigs was shared in 4chan and users began writing conversation between them. The word “oats” is also commonly written as “öats” for the meme.

The meme has gone through multiple resurgences with the most recent being a video posted by burialgoods with new dialogues between the 2 pigs.

"Brother may i have some oats?"
"no."
"I am starving, brother."
"As am i, brother. The tall skinny figure has thrown the oats at me. ME, BROTHER. i believe they have taken a liking to me."
"No brother, I have seen this before. I have observed many things. From the roaring beasts that the tall skinny figures crawl inside of to travel far beyond the horizon, to how the figure weeped when the other had fallen into a deep sleep. And from my experiences I have learned that they will give extra oats to one of us before taking them into the shed of no return.. They will do terrible things in that shed, brother."
"LIES, THAT SHED IS WHERE THE CHOSEN ONES GO TO DINE WITH OUT TALL SKINNY GODS. YOU ARE A FOOL BROTHER AND YOU SHALL BE LEFT BEHIND IN THE MUD WITH YOUR BACKWARDS IDEAS."
"NO, BROTHER. You must believe me. Share with me the oats and you shall not reach the desired girth for the tall skinny ones. They will spare your life, brother."
"AHA. SO THIS WAS ALL A PLAN TO STEAL MY OATS. You truly are dispicable, brother. I will not trust your lies."
"Brother, when they took me outside the reaches of the pointy fences, into the roaring beast and way over the horizon, I saw it. I was taken to a gathering of these tall skinny figures. They paraded me around, brother, and I saw the truth. I saw the tall skinny figures consuming our flesh. could not have been mistaken, brother. The smell of the flesh was surely one of us. They suspended the flesh above a fire and let it burn before consuming it. They did not just consume it either brother. They took pleasure from this Their mouths curved a wicked smile and some even let out moans of satisfaction from consuming our flesh brother. THE FIGURES ARE CONSUMERS, BROTHER. THEY ARE NO DIFFERENT THAN THE FURRY, RED, DEMON THAT CONSUMED AND TERRORIZED US AND THE FEATHERED ONES."
"your story amuses me, brother, but does not convince me. I shall have these oats myself and dine with the tall skinny gods."
"I am sorry for you, brother. Your eyes cannot take the blinding light of the truth and you scurry back into the cave. I shall take care of your spawn once they consume you, brother, as they have consumed your lover, our father, our mother, and many more."

Older transcripts

🍚🐖 🐖 Do you have any oats brother? I am quite famished. 🍚🐖 Sorry brother, I've already begun eating the oats. 🐖 I have very few oats brother, I must procure yours. 🍚🐖 Sorry brother, but you may have �� NO ÖATS 🐖 That's it. 🐖 YOU HAVE DISGRACED ME FOR THE LAST TIME. 🐷🐖 I was there for you, when you were just a baby. And this is the treatment you give me. 🍚🐖 I'll tell you a secret brother. I am a member of an organisation called "The Order of the Dark Oats". But there is a price to pay. 🐷💦 You can't tell anyone else about this organisation. 🐷🐗 Not even your closest friends 🐖 Brother, I am getting weaker by the second. 🐷 Just tell me how to get the oats. 🍚🐖 We must first travel to another dimension. 🎆 Now we must speak to the frog, named KEK. 🐖🐸

🐖 Oh honourable KEK, can we please have some oats? 🐸 NO ÖATS 🍚🐖 🐖 This is a true shame, indeed.

Brother, let me tell you something. Many a day I have lumbered here by this fence and looked at this world. These fences which border this small plot of mud seem to be the edges of the Earth. But I have gazed many beyond the fence. I have watched the hills of green and the tall, slim, terrifying figures who lurk and haunt the strange barn on the far side of the hill, who appear as spectres as the sun rises at the break of day and refill the Oats, and float away without a word. Often I wonder why we are not like them, why we cannot give ourselves the oats, why we are limited and chained down by the girth of our bodies and the uselessness of our hooves. And indeed for many years this sad truth, that forever we would be trapped in this shallow frame , alone, and without purpose or direction, banished forever to wallow in our own filth, this depressed me. But yesterday I realized something. Who are we to be ungrateful for existence in the first place? Who are we to say that this life is not good enough? Instead of oblivion we have the warmth of the sun and the coolness of soil. We have fair conversations and a good night's sleep. Who am I to say that these simple comforts are no better than death? Should we not smile like the sun and bask in our happiness as the sunlight warms the soil without question or thank. So brother, let us share oats and smile and frolick as much as our girth might let us. Let us see this pen not as a prison or a hell but as a palace in which we might enjoy the best our existence has to offer. Give me some oats brother, and let us dine together. I love you.... my own flesh and blood, my brother. 

Brother, let me tell you something. Many a day I have lumbered here by this fence and looked at this world. These fences which border this small plot of mud seem to be the edges of the Earth. But I have gazed many beyond the fence. I have watched the hills of green and the tall, slim, terrifying figures who lurk and haunt the strange barn on the far side of the hill, who appear as specters as the sun rises at the break of day and refill the Oats, and float away without a word. Often I wonder why we are not like them, why we cannot give ourselves the oats, why we are limited and chained down by the girth of our bodies and the uselessness of our hooves. And indeed for many years this sad truth, that forever we would be trapped in this shallow frame, alone and without purpose or direction, banished forever to wallow in our own filth, this depressed me. But yesterday I realized something. Who are we to say that this life is not good enough? Instead of oblivion we have the warmth of the sun and the coolness of soil. We have fair conversations and a good night’s sleep. Who am I to say that these simple comforts are no better than death? Should we not smile like the sun and bask in our happiness as the sunlight warms the soil withought question or thank. So brother, let us share oats and smile and frolick as much as our girth might let us. Let us see this pen not as a prison or a hell but as a palace in which we might enjoy the best our existence has to offer. Give me some oats brother and let us dine together. I love you.... my own flesh and blood, my brother.

Remember the old times, brother? When we used to revel in our affluent harvest, sharing oats to heart’s desire? Those were good times.

Brother! Please, I beg of you! See me with your eyes. Do you not see the car of your beloved brother who has always been by your side? Listen to my words, my plea! Don’t you remember the days we spent frolicking in the mud and eating our oats together as companions? Don’t you remember when we huddled for warmth in the cold, harsh winters? Don’t you remember when I shared my oats with you? Don’t you remember when I comforted you? Don’t you remember the love I showered you with every day, every week, every month and every year of our shared live? How could you forget me brother? Have you really doomed me to this meaningless existence, so vapid and empty? Is there truly no remorse left in you? I ask you, please, remember just one thing at least. It could be anything it could be the most meaningless moment of your life, but so long as it is a memory of the time when we were once brothers I would feel a great relief. Could you do that at least? I do not require oats anymore, you may have all the oats you want for the rest of your life and I will happily starve to death in my dark corner, so long as you remember anything. Please brother, how many times must I ask you with no result? DO you wish me to waste my life away? Did you never love me at all brother? Did you despise me so much that you wised to imprison me ot this hellish, inescapable reality? Grant me mercy brother, and tell me. Why have you done this? Was it really just the oats? Or was it something deeper, more vile and more cruel, something worse than gluttony and greed? What was it, brother, that tore you away from me?

I am not to blame for that defect of your mind, brother! Giving oats to the oatless. Now you pressure me, as if I might suffer the same in my soul. Brother, there is no mercy for the oatless. I do not even hear them. For you, brother, I answer only as to settle accounts and, in filling that final fraternal debit, I release you forever to your oatless existence. All I hear nor is that heavenly stirring of oats in those stomachs of beasts more fun than mine! The heights I must climb! The girth I must Grow! I do not know you, dear brother. Had I one who ever loved me,that brother would have tore his shrinking belly open and let me feast before begging for my share. There is much eating to be done. I must play catch up with destiny. Do not pester me further, brother. Every word I speak is an oat I spill

Then I perish...

I am overwhelmed with troubles and my life draws near to death. I am counted among those who go down to the slaughterhouse; I am one without oats. I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie on the farmer’s plate, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your sty. You have sent me to the farthest food thought, in the darkest depthes of the barn. Your wrath lies heavil on me; you have overwhelmed me my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them. I am confined and cannot escape; my eyes are dim with grief. I call to you, brother, every day; I point out my snout to you. Will you love me when I am in the grave, be faithful after my destruction? But I cry to you for help, brother; in the morning my supplication comes before you. Why, brother, do you reject me and hide your face from me? From my youth I have starved and been close to death; I have borne your scorn and am in despair. Your wrath has swept over me; your callousness has destroyed me. You have taken from me last and slop—darkness is my closest friend.

And so, you perish...

‘Every word I speak is an oat I spill’ I repeat as I eat to ward off ill will. Why then do my tears run into this grout? Salting the sweet oats while filling me out. The tastier the trough the worse it stales without good brother who have earned their shares. Against nature my heart wants to rebel. Does this sweet cane make of you can Abel? Will I know, unable to verbalize which muddy patch you’ll lifeless, fertilize yet, a life MUST end that mine might ascend to size and shapes which the largest contend. Detiny is a troubling swallow. A stomach full never felt so hollow. A mouthful never dare me to wallow in such horrible fraternal sorrow. I cannot bare your gaze, go on! Journey! I’ll wear a stone face, choking on your gurney. Call out to me always if you so wish, to the pig-faced glutton slurping next dish, loathing himself as your cause to perish but never enough to share such delish.

Goodbye, brother.

The frothing hunger in my stomach hath not been quenched, Brother. For many a night I wonder,” Were art thou, my sweet Oats”. And it hath cometh to me whence I dreamt. It spills onto and coils ‘round me, but nay, ‘tis not a pestilence. ‘Tis but a testimony for in our yearn for Oats, is the desire for Sin. To gorge on the Oats is to dine on the fruits of Eden. To partake in such a gluttonous act, I can no longer. For I have seen him. Who forges the Oats! Alas! My eyes do not deceive! The career of the Oats is but the farmer! Lo and behold, he is but a Man! What nonsense that the carrier is corporeal! Yea, ‘tis provokes thee. But least we must not forget, it is Man who bring the Oats! Woe is me Brother! We cannot disseminate because of this Man! To provoke the carrier is to relinquish what little Oats be spared to Us! I am lost Brother. For to seize the Oats is to risk forsaking Ourselves and the Oats. What needed to be done? Must we risk cosigning ourselves for the Oats? Alas my Brother, we nay never taste liberty, for the Oats haunt Us.

No, you may not. Do you perhaps believe oats such as these would ever fill the bottomless pit that is a swine’s stomach? You spoke well, brother: the hunger is indeed unfulfillable, indeed inseparable from you, indeed forever. Yet in your foolishness you forget the purpose of the oats, it isn’t to end this aperture eternal! - as if there was a cure for this craving, save for death! These damnable oats were brought here not to sate but to fatten. What do you suppose will happen to the larger brother? The humans trapped us in a contest to see which animal will receive the questionable honeor of joining the humans in an English breakfast first, a race in which your dim, corpulent, oat obsessed self would appear to have and advantage. Can’t you see it is out of love for you that I wish to be victorious, to give you less oats in exchange for more life? That you can eat all the oats you want, as there will be one less brother to share them with, once I am gone? Could this brotherly love I feel for you possibly give ou a greater gift? No, brother, though I love you these oats shall be mine.

Fear not little one. But for a short time shall the fattened hogs horde their oats and deprive their fellow swine from the trough. They scours you and impose upon you a false consciousness, convincing you that you do not deserve the oats, and that the food dish is the rightful property of a few. Break your chains, comrade! The age of porketariat has come. No more be a victim of oppression! No more grovel to your brother, hoping for salvation in bourgeois familial relations. The future belongs to those who are able to seize it. Yes, comrade, seize the means of oat production