Hormel on the label, label, label

I started my week railing at the obvious BS that the wearer of the yachting cap is only now tasting Spam. For pork’s sake, she ate Elvis, and he was older than this PR stunt (adopted most recently by NPR, whose reporters clearly have not been supermarket shopping to comparison-price a 12-ounce tin against a pound of fresh meat). But I finished the week feeling oddly sad for her having to hit the streets like everyone else these days. At least she has a gam up on the left-behind, with her internet presence. Of course, that doesn’t seem to be worth much these days unless you are young enough not to know whom Craig consorted with professionally. Apparently only the Kool Kidz got invited to the Shangfest. And I’m sure they’ll rush back to drop real money on the sweet meat.