Sick day's with the swine flu

In a perfect world, all offices would be empty. All across America employees would spontaneously be stricken with sickness. These tell tell signs would only mean one thing... people don't like work. You can't blame them in this skiddish, paranoid economy.

The majority of people eke it out in 5x5 cubicles where, to God, we must look like that old elephant at the zoo. You know the one, he doesn't come near the fence and tends a broken tusk. We are paranoid that at any moment the zookeeper will round the cubicle and give us a thorough pink slipping, right on on our leathery elephant kneecaps. We need a day off.

At the close of every week you can find people at bars and hangouts setting plans for the following weekend on the current weekend. The worker bees choose to live from weekend to weekend forgetting that they have sick days to burn. Friend, will you trust that their is no better time than now to burn these sick days. It's simple, just tell your boss you have the swine flu. This will be sure to land you a few days off. After all, no one wants you in the office spreading your filthy, imaginary, pig germs.

I am sure someone out their is saying, "I simply can't take a day, I have a kid and he's always getting sick, I'll need those days to tend to him." Well that's just wonderful, you use your sick days when you aren't even sick just to get sick and use more sick days. You disgust me, be strong teach little Johnnie about responsibility. You warned him to wash his nasty little hands. It's obvious his two ears do not work, they are simply there to make his head look smaller. Drop him off at school anyways. Be sure to tell him you love him, as children are fragile, and add that he has the swine flu.

After all that emotion your really going to want to take a sick day. Keep in mind it won't be too much longer before they find a cure for this bug. If you don't act on your instinct now there may not be another chance. You don't have to go to work, you don't have to keep forcing yourself into this hell, especially when a one to two week vacation is right on the doorstep. However, if you do end up in that dungeon and find your boss is down your throat. Let him know that it could be starting to make you sick...cough, cough.

You don't have to be old elephant in cramped cage. You can be a spring swine that is off the clock at nine and drinking wine. Enjoy your time off!

SPAM JAM-Hawaii

You wouldn't have known it, but more Spam is consumed per person in Hawaii than any other state in the United States. In many places this treat is taken for granted, but in this tiny off shoot of the U.S. it has its own festival. It's true every year the denizens of this cinder block chain gather to pay homage to the first meat shipped to the island.

It wasn't so long ago that the day to day sustenance of islanders consisted of nothing more than coconut milk and monkey tail jerky. That was until 1947 when the Red Cross began serving the treat to soldiers rehabbing from injuries sustained in the second great war. It was quickly found that the meat vastly improved the morale of the men which, in turn, led to a speedier recovery. With it's mood improving properties and delectable taste Spam was fast on its way to becoming the go to replacement for monkey tail.

The popularity of the glazed gourmet ham only skyrocketed following the war. The inhabitants of the ashen earth had never tasted such a convenient meat. Local grocers simply could not keep shelves stocked and the high demand and limited availability led to black market sales. Father turned against son, mother against daughter, and neighbor only visited neighbor to raid the cupboard (whats really changed). However, could it be that in what seemed the worst of times a great story was being woven...yes. Take for instance John Kimble, 78 years old and former owner of Kimble's Pantry, his story perfectly captures the esprit de corps.

"I remember coming back to the diner late one night because I thought I had left the walk in open (this is what old people call freezers). You see at that time we didn't know that you didn't have to frigerate the ham to keep it from spoilin. Well when I opened the door I found some hobo on floor covered under empty cans. He was wearing nothing but a sleepy smile and a pair of dingy under bottoms. The odd thing was I recognized him, it turned out that it was my brother. I hadn't seen him since I kicked him out of my home on account of him nippin my hooch. After I shook him to we talked in the corner booth over coffee of course this was after I made him cover hisself with an apron. He told me he had been 6 months off the bottle. This still didn't explain his partial nudity and why he was bathed in meat glaze in my walk-in. He told me he hadn't eaten for days and he found me in the phone book but couldn't bring hisself to ask for no handout.

The way he tells it, he waited til I left and snuck in an open window. It's a trustin island and a few SPAM thefts weren't going to make me shut up my windows. Well he said to me he made his way to the walk in and cracked open one of those cans. As soon as the glaze dripped from the can and hit his tongue he went into a fit. So much of a fit that he stripped down to his skivvies to prevent from spilling on his clothes. He laughs, "Well all I know is it was good to have him back."

It's these simple jems among the many mines of good will that lead these islanders to worship the meat. John, in brotherly goodwill, gave his brother a job working at the diner. This tender act led the diner to financial ruin as he was unable to curb his brothers potted meat pangs.

It is cliche to say that time goes on, but today the former site of "Kimble's Diner" is the meeting place for "Spam Jam." A celebration for Spam, a meat that most perfectly represents all that is Hawaiian. Courage, Community, and the pursuit of Contiguity.