I forgot to mention further advice my dad gave me about the making of chicharron: "While you're baking it, you can also brush the skin with water ... remember how you see in the Philippines brushing the lechon (roast pig, and the best stuff ever) with the leaves? They're brushing them with water, so they won't explode."
"Explode!! They can explode!?" I had visions of whole roasted pigs, spontaneously exploding into little bits, spraying pork pieces all over the Filipino countryside. And then I could see the headline on the front page of Cleveland Plain Dealer, "WOMAN, 28, DIES IN FREAK PORK RIND ACCIDENT: Fatally wounded by pork skin shrapnel when opening oven."
But then the dawn of understanding and common sense fell upon me. "Oh, you mean it won't get those bubbles?"
"Yeah, the skin will be very smooth and shiny."
So much for chicharron as a deadly weapon. It can still kill you, but only in the old-fashioned "I've-having-chest-pains!-Bag-her!-Give-me-200-CLEAR!-300!-CLEAR!-beep-beep-beep-Call-it" type of way.