What would it be like, to possess an incredible singing voice and a penchant for writing good songs, but be recognized solely for a hunk of meat on a stick? Just ask Jimmy Dean, and you’ll soon have an answer. Oh wait, you can’t, because he’s dead. Due to his timely demise (he was 81 years old, people), little treasures like this headline are popping up everywhere: “Singer and Sausage Impresario Dies.”
I think that a man can really measure his worth, and know that he’s made it, when he is referred to as a sausage anything.
Everyone knows of my insatiable love for any sort of animal by-product, so this news is especially hard for me. Jimmy Dean sausages go back to the golden age of 1969, and was later sold to the Sara Lee Corporation for millions. Up until Jimmy started to look like a weathered handbag in 2004, he was the main spokesman, and his commercials were filled with words of wisdom.
Jimmy Dean is also known for making shit, intermittently thrown into the lineup of otherwise delectable products. Pancakes sprinkled with chunks of years-old chocolate, wrapped around a freeze-dried and shriveled piece of sausage, and then thrown into the microwave for 45 seconds, sounds about as appealing as Jimmy Dean brand Breakfast Bowls. Anything that can be “cooked” in less than a minute, is not okay by me.
Despite his array of terrible food, The JD will be greatly missed. Sure, I’ve never really listened to his music, and didn’t even know that he was inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame, but fuck, do his processed meats bring me back. |Photo: Mystery Meat Macrophotography series|