My Secret Shame

Oh, the humanity.
I've made changes in my lifestyle to the point where I rarely buy food products. I do buy canned tomatoes and beans, Mideast coucous, all manner of condiments, and the occasional Trader Joe's flight of fancy. Rebby likes breakfast cereal a lot, so we buy that too, sometimes. For the most part, though, I deal in whole foods. (lower case) I accomplish this largely by staying out of places where food products are sold (namely the middle aisles of grocery stores)
On Saturday, though, I found myself in a Dollar General in McKeesport. We were there in pursuit of Orange hand cleaner. It would have been very easy for me to a)stay in the truck or b)follow Rebby through the store with blinders on, but instead I followed the siren song of the food products aisle. And there, my friends, was perhaps my ultimate nemesis: Underwood Chicken Spread. One Dollar Per Can.
The experience of opening a can of Underwood Chicken Spread is exactly like opening a can of Fancy Feast cat food. It probably IS the same. The label basically insinuates chicken parts (only white meat though!) mixed with fat and seasonings and, oh, you know CORN SYRUP SOLIDS. This is everything I think is wrong with food in America today. Christ, it even has a DEVIL on the label just in case you weren't sure.
But.
I. Can't. Stop.
There was a summer when I was living alone in Greenfield in an apartment designed for four people. I had moved to Pittsburgh from Ohio for college, and was just getting myself sorted out. I worked at Roy Rogers in the Cathedral of Learning basement in the daytime, but I spent a LOT of time alone. And started to go slightly batty.
The most obvious manifestations of the battiness were talking out loud to myself all the time, and adopting a very peculiar diet. I would go to the grocery store and buy the following items:
Underwood Chicken Spread
Generic Cream Cheese
Peppridge Farms Dijon Rye Bread
Generic BBQ Fritos
Fresca
Then I would eat the chicken and cream cheese sandwiches, BBQ fritos and fresca for every meal (not counting the ones I had at work, and thank the good lord I spent a lot of time at the salad bar) until one element was used up. Bizarre, yes? And why would I want to revisit this battiness in such a Proustian manner? I can't tell you.
All I can tell you is I scooped up all four cans of Underwood Chicken Spread for One Dollar they had on those shelves and I am eating two chicken spread and cream cheese sandwiches for breakfast. And I feel great.
To redeem myself later, I will be making beef stock and a tuna casserole for Rebby's dinner. And going for a snowy shopping trip to the Strip.