I have returned from my whirlwind tour of the great Cosmopolis, and let me tell you, it was grand. I spoke with a woman who had just turned 100 and was looking forward to dancing at her birthday party the next day. I spent some time with another woman who now has the heart of a younger man beating inside her chest. I communed with a male canary who graced me with his soft cricket song.

And now I am trying to kill myself with a pile of crispy bacon. It is very salty and brown, and the package was opened a week ago, so I might die when I go have a nap now. This might be it for me. Curtains. Especially since I at some of it in a toasted sandwich with peanutbutter to intensify the negative health benefits. Shut up. It's really quite good. Next, I'm going to mince some of it up and put it on top of a yogurt-covered potato thing that the Palinode made. Mmm, yogurt and bacon. Bacon goes with everything.

Does death by sodium nitrite only come in the heart attack form, or is there some other awful thing it could do to me less painfully?

If The Ham Is Satanic, You Know What To Do With It