I have never seen such an awful perversion of intention in all my time as a live pig and even in my time as a ghostly one. How is it that our noble dream, our honest thoughts have been so twisted by this impostor Napoleon, this pig who says he's for the very animals he's manipulating and hurting? And how can he sleep while knowing that he's abused the faith that those trusting animals, namely Boxer, so willingly placed in him? How do these poor beasts, tricked into believing they are no longer beasts of burden, not see how they have been used and abused in the years since my death? I only wish I could come to save them.

I believe I should have anticipated this, especially in the beginning of Animism. Napoleon refused to help any of us, instead choosing to raise some dogs. Why didn't I have the insight to realize these trained animals would beget my own end? And as for Squealer, I had always hoped he would use his persuasion for good. Sadly, I was horribly wrong. Looking down even now, I can see how horribly he is using his gift. It is truly awful how he has exchanged his conscious for milk and apples along with the many other privileges belonging to the pigs. Even as I have seen the pigs do some loathsome things, none of them compare to the events of today. They have finally gone too far. What have they done, you may ask? They have sold our beloved Boxer, who should have enjoyed a retirement of flower-filled meadows, to the glue factory. And as if that weren't enough, they used the money they were paid for our dear Boxer, not to buy something for the good of the farm, but for a case of whiskey! This is particularly upsetting since one of the founding principles of Animism was that no animal should drink alcohol. What has happened to our dear system? The pigs have been transformed into the very form of tyrant we strove to free ourselves from so many years ago. But are the pigs truly to blame? Is it not true that all animals feel they must be above someone, for it is in their nature? Is it not true that fame and power would go to the head of even the simplest of creatures? It may be true that I am biased due to the fact that I myself am a pig, but I understand that had I been able to continue my leadership, I may have ended in the same position as those very pigs I look down on from the comforts of Sugarcandy Mountain.

However mixed my feelings toward those pigs may be, I simply cannot condone the way they have abused my memory. I always imagined I would be regaled as some for of hero after I died, especially following my bravery at The Battle of the Cowshed. If I recall correctly, which I do, I fought off that despicable Jones, while Napoleon ran off and cowered. If this is true, he should be denounced as a traitor, and I should be celebrated. How did it come to pass that I am painted as a live villain, undermining all the progress they've made? How could I tear down their windmill and diminish their food supply? I am no longer in flesh, if I attempt to do anything involving something concrete, I'll pass right through it. But, I do suppose the animals were never told of my death at the hands of Napoleon's trained dogs, especially not with Squealer in charge of information. The community of animal farm has been mercilessly twisted with his words. The common beasts believe they are better off everyday, when it is clearly the opposite. I only wish I could raise from the dead to avenge my precious dream.