The Cult Of SPAM

It's time that we all take a moment to consider SPAM....
Yeah, SPAM -- the delicious meat product produced by our friends at Hormel. It's a cultural icon; folks far and wide have at least heard of SPAM, even if few have tried it. Well, let me state for the record that I love SPAM. It's a block of meat that comes in a can. What's not to like???


Some people claim that SPAM is "gross," but I respectfully disagree. I say it's a miracle product. See, according to the Hormel folks, SPAM goes all the way back to the 1930s. A mad scientist developed SPAM in an underground Minnesota lair, hoping to create an ultra-fortified, performance-enhancing food that could be used by the US Army to create a new master race of super soldiers. He failed, but wound up with a great consolation prize: cheap meat that could be exported all over the world for the enjoyment of millions. What a guy!

SPAM is actually short for "seasoned ham." It got its name in the early 40s when manufacturer Hormel Corporation held some "Name the Meat" contest and a guy named Kenneth Daigneau won. So there -- I've set the record straight, and you haters can stop claiming that SPAM stands for "Something Posing As Meat" or "Spare Parts Animal Meat."

(I always serve SPAM to my most important guests.)

SPAM tastes kind of like hot dogs, bologna, and Canadian bacon mixed. Some folks eat it raw, but I say that's disgusting. No, the best way to effectively manage your SPAM is to fry it. My preferred method is to throw a few thin slices on the George Foreman Grill (another miracle product, by the way), and get it to a nice brownish color. See, the trick to fine SPAM dining is to cut it thin enough; thick chunks are nasty. SPAM is like one of them poisonous Japanese puffer fish -- you've got to prepare it JUST RIGHT, or you might suffer in terrible ways.

When grilling my SPAM, I'll usually sprinkle Cajun seasoning and hot sauce on it. Get a couple drops of some nice Louisiana Crystal sauce on that patty and let it work its way into the meat as it cooks. MMMmmm, then you'll have yourself a SPICY SPAM slice! Pepper is also a nice addition, but be warned that adding more salt is always a BAD idea. Additionally, don't forget that SPAM goes well with mustard. See, the goal is to take advantage of the spongy-crispy-greasy aspects of the SPAM meat while doing whatever you can to mask the grosser, catfood-like taste. SPAM is a moody mistress. Treat it right.

(Check out Spam.com -- a great resource for all things SPAM.)

I was first introduced to SPAM by my pal John when I was about ten. At that point in my life, all I really knew about SPAM was that it was a Weird Al Yankovic song. John set me straight, though. His parents were gone for the day, meaning we could conduct dangerous experiments in the kitchen. He popped open a can of SPAM.

"Check this out," he said. "This here is AUTHENTIC SPAM."
I was frightened and confused, but also strangely intrigued. "SPAM? What's it DO?" I asked.
"It cooks. In a pan," he said. "Then you EAT it."
"Wooooowwww...."

John fried up some SPAM and also melted cheese on it, making for a lovely summer's afternoon snack. While I personally didn't care for the massive chunks of American cheese that he heaped on it (honestly, is there no cheese more disgusting than American?), I dug the concept of SPAM, in general. It was a super cheap meat that could be stored indefinitely in just about any location. Plus, I got to play with the STOVE that day! What fun!!!

(Look -- a restaurant in Minnesota that serves all SPAM meals. Awesome!)

I mentioned above that SPAM can be taken to virtually any locale, and that actually factored into its role in helping us win World War II. Yeah -- SPAM fueled our fighting men during the Big One. Look out, Mr. Hitler -- our troops are carrying SPAM!

Over 100 million pounds of SPAM were shipped to American troops in WWII. When our boys weren't blowing up Nazis, they were chowing down on a variety of delicious SPAM recipes that they'd developed on their own. The troops spread SPAM all over Europe, although it had already caught on in England, where folks ate it with their afternoon tea thanks to the Lend-Lease program. Eventually, the SPAM craze on the other side of the Atlantic pond died down, but in Asia, the product remains quite popular to this very day. Folks over there eat it with rice and fish and stuff. It's nice to know that at least a few cultures in this miserable world have decent taste.


I wish I could eat more SPAM. I miss frying up a few slices at three in the morning just for the heck of it. Yeah, just because I friggin' FELT like it! Sadly, for various reasons, I can no longer snack as conveniently on mass-produced processed meat products as I once did. But the memories will always be with me. SPAM, our times together were magical and I'll forever regret not trying your Garlic or Hot & Spicy varieties when I had the chance. May you and yours find happiness in the kitchens of other fine people the world over. We may not be as close as we once were, but SPAM, I declare you the Snack of the Month!

Now for no reason at all, here's a documentary about cults.

Join Us (20007)
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1059801/


Netflix description:
Filmmaker Ondi Timoner's fascinating exploration of the psychological impact of cults traces an unexpected group -- a small Christian church in South Carolina. Realizing their minister has an unhealthy hold on their lives, determining everything from where they work to how they discipline their children, some of the parishioners decide to leave. Timoner follows them as they break from the church and try to put their lives back together again.

Join Us tells the true story of three families who got sucked into some wild mind control cult in the Deep South in the 1990s. See, these folks fell in with a crazy old German dude who convinced them to hand over all their money and move into a subdivision that he'd built. He then assumed control over every aspect of his flock's lives, even their finances and the discipline of their children (which could be pretty friggin' HARSH at times). What a guy!

These three families, you see, get the guts to ditch their cult leader, who calls himself a pastor, and then try to sue him. Of course, this being the Deep South, they fail, and the pastor gets off scott free. But that's not really the point; the REAL appeal of Join Us is simply the fascinating look into the nature of brainwashing that it gives us. I mean, some of these former cultists are pretty messed up following their experience. One woman, for example, is reduced to a puddle of psychological jelly after parting ways with her beloved pastor. She rocks back and forth in the fetal position when faced with a decision, unable to think for herself. Even though she KNOWS that the pastor was a manipulative sadist who beat her own children, she contemplates going back to his fold. Yowza!

Director Ondi Timoner (who also did the fascinating We Live In Public) takes us deep into the lives of our heroes, the former cultists. For the most part, they don't seem overtly STUPID, per se; they just got sucked into the wrong kind of organization at the wrong time. We also get to meet their former pastor, Herr Raimund Melz. When we catch up with him, he's basically abandoned, yet excited about plans to rebuild his congregation. It's obvious that everything Melz says is a lie -- he's got that crazy, manipulative look in his eyes that all mad holy men have. His wife is even worse, at one point telling one of our heroes that her husband is struggling with Alzheimer's disease, even though we later learn that he isn't. How do people like this thrive?

(It's not like they advertise.)

That's the scary message that comes out of Join Us -- that it can be hard to differentiate between a cult and a really crappy church with only a handful of members. At what point would any of US fall victim to the mind games of a wannabe messiah? The film attempts to delve into some of these questions, featuring interviews with a few psychologists and other experts. Plus, we get to meet some nice folks who run a rehab center for recently-displaced cult members. They're really the ones doing God's work, I think.

Join Us is worth checking out simply because it takes a highly personal look at a cultural phenomenon. Rather than addressing the broader issue of cults in America, it focuses on just a few rank and file members who managed to get out. Will they be able to rebuild their lives? It's hard to say.

I would have liked a little more testimony from experts, and perhaps additional details on the exact horrors of living in Pastor Melz's compound (which was actually more like a modern suburban subdivision), but other than that, I found Join Us to be an engaging little documentary. Give it a rental if you're interested in this sort of thing.

4 out of 5.

b.