How much Spam can you handle? My inbox is filled with spam daily, despite the spam filters that are in place, advertising everything from the best prices in Viagra to the best prices on Rolex watches to...well...that's about it. Mostly spam about that.
But I'm talking about Spam. Capital S. You know, that stuff in a can that no one really knows for sure what it is?
Well, I'm coming forward to tell you today that I like that stuff. Sure, the thought of it is disgusting, especially that gelatinous coating that encases the, uh, meat. What is that? Well, it isn't supposed to matter. You aren't supposed to think about it. Just slice off some, fry it up, stick it on a sandwich with lettuce and mayonaise, and you have yourself one tasty meal.
I've heard rumors...and they are probably just urban legends...that the stuff was invented for soldiers in the war, so that they could eat meat anytime, anywhere. Just pop open a can and voila! I've also heard that it was infiltrated across the border from Soviet spies at one time in an attempt to poison the population of the United States with high-fat, heart-attack-inducing food.
But whatever the reason, I was feeling nostalgic for the stuff. Honestly, I haven't bought a can of Spam in ages. But I just might. I mean, after all, they still sell the stuff...so someone, somewhere is buying it. Which means it is edible. Unless...
What if all the Spam in the world is like fruitcake? No one eats it. But it never goes bad, so they just keep it on the shelves in hopes that one day someone will buy it and eat it. Rather than throw it out, filling up the nation's landfills, they just keep it spread out among the grocery stores in hopes that someone, somewhere will buy a can and fry some up.
Well...uh...my stomach isn't feeling so good at the moment. I think I'd better stop talking about Spam now. I'm imagining that smell. You know, when you first open a can? Like the smell of dog food?
What was I thinking? I don't like Spam. There. I'm glad I got that off my chest.
