“As Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from uneasy dreams he found his brain had transformed into a tin of SPAM.” — Franz Kafka, Spam
The cat alarm went off this morning at 3:30am, as every day. I got up, fed the selfish beasts, went back to bed, but I couldn't fall asleep again. I could blame the coffee I had yesterday at 4pm, or the single glass of wine I had last night (more likely to interfere with my sleep than knocking me out) but the truth is that I couldn’t sleep because my brain was full of spam. It was full of spam and it still is — it’s overflowing with spam — spam is dripping from my ears as I write now. And it’s overflowing with spam because spam is the defining feature of our time. Open the window, look around and there it is. Inhale and take in the spam: don’t you love the smell of burning swine in the mornings?