What’s the deal with Spam? The last thing I want is unsolicited phone calls and emails from a type of canned meat. Between you and me, I’ve always believed Spam was sentient, but I never imagined it was this sentient. I mean, I’ve almost been convinced before to buy a timeshare on a deserted island. And who knows? Maybe that was Spam’s endgame all along—to lure me to a place where it’s the only food source.
But let’s be honest: if I were stranded on a deserted island and a cargo crate full of Spam washed ashore, I’d probably still hesitate to eat it. Not because I think it might taste bad, but because I refuse to eat anything that could call me in the middle of dinner and try to sell me a trial membership to Hulu. Just what I need on a deserted island—a streaming service. You’d think they’d at least offer me something useful, like a stream of fresh water. Or maybe reruns of Survivor as a twisted form of motivation.
And I wouldn’t even know how to eat Spam. I don’t want to look like some kind of spamateur. Do you need a special tool for it? A spork, maybe? I mean, a spork on a deserted island? Splease. I suppose you could pair it with something like corned beef hash, but that’s just another slippery slope into the world of canned meats. Next thing you know, you’re throwing a party with Spam, hash, and Vienna sausages and calling it a charcuterie board.
If Spam really is sentient, maybe there are other conscious canned meats out there. Holy mackerel! Maybe psychic sardines that can communicate with the other side? Connect people with their dead pet goldfish they flushed down the can? I bet those goldfish have some tales to tell—like how they swam through a tunnel to that great big golden aquarium in the sky, where they can eat their fill of those little flakes they love so much.
Come to think of it, would those Goldfish snack crackers pair well with Spam? Maybe I’m overthinking it. But if the sardines are psychic, maybe they could tell me how to make a proper Spam charcuterie. Just as long as it doesn’t come with a subscription to Spamazon Prime.