It's not like me to rub it in, but hasn't the harmonic convergence of 1987 been sort of a let down? If it was all that great in your camp, that's fine here. I don't recall winning a beauty contest that year. Then the damn Mayan end of history, 2012, turned out to be smoke and mirrors. Had my hopes up, too. Like Nancy Spungen and Sid Vicious, of the Sex Pistols, I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory
Well, this year's Hamarama is in overtime. It started, by shear luck, with the rolling of the osage oranges, when the inedible warty nuisances fall off their trees and rolled, bumping and banging in the pot holes, en mass, like the running of the bulls, down steeply inclined Federal Street. As if a new pope was elected, the price of store brand picnic hams fell by up to seventy-five percent, to 99 cents a pound. Hamarama runs from the first day,to the last, of Very Cheap Ham Season, which lasts each year as long as grocery stores abide the Word. By way or revue, Hamarama begins near Christmas time, when the price of ham dips to 99 cents a pound, and ends when the price goes back up. It's a mono-maniacal feast.
Observant like a zealot, been downing two pounds a day, grand total, so far, eighteen pounds of ham. Special thanks to the pigs, and to all those nice folks in the meat business.