Christmas morning 2023 will be a big disappointment for me. Not one of my presents will be bacon related. I just know it. I used to belong to a bacon club where they sent you a different type of bacon each month. My wife kept trashing the package, maybe because the name of the company was The Strip Club.
Everyone loves bacon. We wrap a $50 filet in a strip of bacon to make it even better, and “No one has ever gone to see a Kevin Hot Dog movie,” comic Jim Gaffigan says. Nor would we even know what a water chestnut is if it weren’t for bacon. To get a taste of its newest gift ideas, I went to one manufacturer’s website.
Its premier item is bacon shaving cream. The company suggested ordering early to be sure customers have a festive pork-scented holiday. The ad claims the shaving cream delivers “maximum bacon scent when you need it most.” When that is, I have no idea, but they had me worked into a lather just thinking about it. By the way, the company lightheartedly warns that while using this product, “You can be eaten by bears,” making some of the side effects of my Lipitor pale in comparison.
Overall, I was very impressed with the company’s selection of pork-related products and its customer-friendly approach in follow-up correspondence It even asked if I’d prefer to not receive frequent email solicitations, because in the company’s words, “No one likes spam.” It had a point. I’ll try its Bacon-Flavored Popcorn, but the idea of Spam Lip Balm makes me a little nauseous.
How about a container of Bacon Infant Formula? The company claims that fat in pork is very important in the development of a newborn’s brain. The promotion was nothing but an April Fool’s joke. Yes, everyone was laughing except the 112 people who fell for this and waited by the mailbox every day, hoping the product was delivered before the baby was delivered.
My favorite is the Bacon-Scented Oxygen Inhaler. You’ve had a long day at the office; you’re at the mid-point in a marathon; or suffer from COPD (chronic overt pork deficiency). Pick up your mini inhaler, hold the device up to your snout and breathe in. You’ll never be out of breath again, but you will experience periodic grunting.
And, so, Christmas morning will come and go. There will be no bacon salt, no bacon candles and no bacon-flavored envelopes. Not even a package of bacon-scented stickers to slap on friends who might enjoy sniffing themselves at work for a quick bacon high. I will sit at the breakfast table somewhat consoled when my wife serves a bacon quiche. I will savor several pieces. I figure she might get some gift ideas for next year if I make a pig of myself.
