Fat is Good,” so is SpamMarch 6, 2012
“Fat is Good”, so was Spam.
I like spam. Back in the late nineteen fifties I was living in a sparsely furnished room at a Paddington Boarding House. The front door had a sign “Migrants Welcome”. The boarding house was run by a Maltese woman. Her husband was a butcher. They were a good and devout family and a loaded shotgun was kept in the wardrobe.
On the wall and above my bed was a picture of a Jesus cruelly nailed to a wooden cross. What was disconcertingly spooky, depending on what angle this picture was viewed at, that its eyes would open and shut alternatively when stepping past.
When the Jesus had its eyes open they were piously cast upwards. Perhaps the subliminal message and hope being, that the viewer would also become pious and work towards that upwards heavenly goal as well. It turned me off 3D pictures and holograms for life.
At night, and before hopping into my bed, I would turn the picture facing the wall. During the day and before going to work I would always politely turn Jesus back again allowing it to ponder and gaze over my bed. It would, at least during daytime, allow Him to cast his eyes, perhaps in a despairingly manner, heavenly upwards again for anyone passing my bed during the day. I did not want to upset a devout family with a shotgun in the wardrobe.
Sometimes, most often after work and tired, I used to sit on the edge of my single bed, open a tin of spam with that handy little tool that was attached to the top and ever so slowly (in order not to break it) turn and twist the lid off.
One was greeted by a little white coloured blubbery bit of fat coagelatined to the top hiding its deliciously pink coloured innards. The bouquet of the spam greeting the nostrils was always immensely pervasive. Scooping it up with a teaspoon while turning the pages of V.Woolf’s Orlando, was one of those little pleasures of bachelorhood that gets forgotten once married, and sitting and eating on the edge of a bed becomes, very sensibly IMHO, banned forever. I remember it though as if yesterday.
Now the original and true meaning of ‘spam’ is lost and for baby boomers that joy forever denied, even though, while sauntering past the acreages of Woolies isles I sometimes still spot a tin of Spam, proudly and defiantly competing with more modern delicacies such as the cryonically preserved Crunchy Chico Bar or boxes loaded with healthy Fruity Loops.
So much now is lost and gone into the bowels of history forever, the same as so much else during that era. We have all but forgotten the pungent smell of the spattering mutton legs on Friday afternoons together with mum’s baked pumpkin and spuds, and happy kids hurtling down-hill on Billy carts, all at Redfern’s or Rockdale’s back lanes.
And yet, looking at photos from the fifties and sixties, there is striking difference between then and now. We were all skinny. Well, skinny, not really, but compared with now, sure, skinny! Hardly a fat person is in sight. Now, here surely is something to ponder about? The latest information on obesity puts the blame on diets.
The question that never seems to get asked is; if we were all so slim and taut some fifty years ago, and Spam and Mutton was one of our most staple diets, how come we were all so much slimmer?
The answer might well be because of spam and mutton spatter with lashes of salty larded on white Tip-Top. Let’s go back, if that’s the way to beating obesity.
I have noticed that canny advertisers are quick in the uptake to grab the dollar and turn a perceived adversity into a handsome profit. All of a sudden we have the most glorious and lusciously full ample bosomed and ravishingly beautiful size eighteen models lolling and rolling around on our TV screens and on beaches. They are shown on the advertisements seducing equally larger men that drive around Volvo’s or seen walking into banks for larger mortgages.
Larger men are also now used in advertising with huge bums sticking out of large cars strapping in the large toddlers with the large wife looking on with smiles of conjugal promises and/or generous approval. Yes, definitely, model agencies are looking for larger people now and those anemic looking bone skinny girls on catwalks will soon be given the flick. About time too ,we all need more room, move over. C’est la vie.
Obviously, those large Insurance companies have done their homework and also assiduously studied the latest statistics. They don’t seem at all alarmed or daunted by large people. They wouldn’t advertise them would they? Is ‘fat is good’ replacing ‘greed is good?
As for those boarding rooms in Paddington, they are all gone now. The Maltese family most likely retired in Santa Magdalena retirement villa on Rosella’s circuit at Dooley-Vale. The picture of Jesus and the roving eyes having survived all. It’s hanging above their double bed, the loaded shotgun never used. They were a devout family.
“Fat is good”.
Tags: Jesus, Malta, Migrants, Mutton, Paddington, Spam, Woolies Posted in Gerard Oosterman | Edit | Leave a Comment »

Hey, Gez, FM was sitting in the park near one of our clients’ offices eating a quiet salad lunch and some giant Mr Creosote came up and sat on the adjacent bench, opened his lunch bag. And ate a whole effing roast chook. Nothing else, but he disappeared the lot. Amazingly, on another day – a female version did the SAME !
When I was a kid, one chook fed the whole family for dinner and then we scored chicken sandwiches for lunch the next day.
No wonder people become obese these days – no bloody sense of a balanced diet or a reasonable portion.
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H and I laughed out reading those chicken eating feats. You are right, they eat till they drop. Has anyone also noted that ‘speed-eating’ has also grabbed the world’s obese. No one takes time to masticate or slowly eat. No, they eat as if obsessed or in a race. Whole drumsticks are put in and loll around inside carnivorous mouths and you wonder if the bones will ever come out.
Yesterday, in Oatley and in the pouring rain I saw a woman with a bag of something sitting at a bustop and I was waiting for a red light to get green. While waiting that woman’s hand went at least 9 times inside that bag and into her mouth. God knows what she put into her mouth. I felt like leaping out of my diesel Cruze and tell her; “take it easy, take it easy, there is still time”. The light turned green and I moved on.
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…give them a teaspoon full of spam instead, we have enough Ginas and Clives already!
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Just lettem eat cake.
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What about that painting by Shoe, Taking hats off? Very nice painting Shoe. It reminds me of Gustaf Klimt’s work.
I could not comment on the painting’s page, so, I just park it here.
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Found. Dear Gez. What an honour. Thank you.
I will mention regards Klimt my imagination is festooned with Klimt as my daughter illustrates her own life with Klimt, frequently draws my attention to paintings of his.
Not that I have ever thought to create images that are Klimt-like. Gosh, that one might be so bold. His work is the height of excellence.
I am influenced and am conscious of seeking in these a richness of illustration however, view of an old hard cover edition of Arabian Nights from my childhood (alas not seen for years) and such like. I think often too of a line, ‘the night has a thousand eyes’. 🙂
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‘Shoe, I found one of your posts in the spam trap. I have no idea why it went in there – but there’s been a lot lately from the outside world – which HAS been spam – so please accept my apologies, but we really do need the trap on.
Kind regards, Emm.
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O, emmjay, I didn’t know I lost a comment here or there. 😉
Pleased for the surveillance, Mike. Thank you.
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Cor! Thank Gord for that! No more comments that need answers!
‘Night all!
🙂
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Gez, I’ll just write my response on this paper and put it in an envelope and walk it to the post office and buy a stamp and drop it in the bin and then walk back to my desk. Or not. We might be going at internet speed but sadly, effortlessly.
Imagine if we had to pedal a bike to generate power to stay online. Fuckin’ massive calves everywhere – thin bottoms and flat tummies.
I’m with the Big M. Interestingly, fat has seven times the energy density of carbs – and is rapidly absorbed – so Mac chips – which are high in fat, carbs (including sugar) and salt are pancreatic dynamite. So are their burgers. And they are readily available – which wasn’t the case in the skinny fifties. There was no need for convenience food because there was nothing like the poverty of time we have today.
In the olden days we often ate and then worked hard – so the absorbed energy was immediately converted into work effort. Now there are far fewer jobs requiring hard labour and so where does the high blood sugar go ? Straight into fat storage – since animals store almost no carbs ( a tiny amount of glycogen in the liver – which disappears in the first few minutes of exercise – after that we burn fat ….. very slowly……)
Thanks for the piece – always a pleasure to read.
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Slight correction Emmjay… fat has 9 calories per gram; carbohydrates and protein, 4 calories per gram each. Hardly ‘seven times the energy density’; if that were true, working out to work off fat would be a REAL nightmare!
Just indulging my penchant for pedantry ol’ pal!
😉
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asty, it’s lovely having you around. Emmjay, not to underestimate the understanding we are now developeing about the role of the diurnal natural variations in light and sleep patterns that were described by night and day, not by 24-hour a day artifical light sources. It is said now that if we don’t sleep in the hours when it is dark and wake with daylight, our metabolism goes awry.
I don’t know a lot about it. Just sayin’
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There may be something in that ‘Shoe… Once upon a time I was a regular and disciplined ‘early riser’… But working nightshifts can so easily change all that… you learn (or rather, your body learns), rightly or wrongly, that there’s no real reason why it shouldn’t get up late in the afternoons and go to sleep at dawn… or vice-versa! A coupla years working for the STA on the nightshift cleaning buses had me feeling very much like a ‘ghost’, although that feeling wasn’t entirely unfamilar after my protracted peripatetic perambulations around Europe as a vagabond and gypsy often made me feel that way too… Seems I feel that way more than ever now; sometimes I wonder if I really still exist…
🙂
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PS: Mind you, I was still pretty fit back then ’cause I was working out 5 times per week; it wasn’t ’til after the gall-bladder op that my metabolism REALLY changed… and to top it all off, I swear they cut the bit that holds everything in and up… so now I have a ‘beergut’ even though I haven’t had a beer in longer than I care to remember. Ain’t no justice!
😉
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Know what you mean about considering a pattern of sleep takes on the character of an occupation eg night shift, asty. Parents with small children develop disturbed sleep patterns. Nurses who do these back to back shifts have to be made of stern stuff I have wondered.
Now we have this entirely new phenomenon, staring into screens for extended hours. Sleep pattern cause and effect regardless predate computer use are fuelled by the feeling of feeling safe we now get (when its working for us) glued to this flickeration…
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asty, you had a bad accident and have been chair bound. For a man who was a body builder and that has happened to, you have weathered it remarkably well. I will always feel the anger about the neglect of your circumstances by the Trust, living up those stairs and hauling yourself up on those crutches by hopping upstairs. 😦
Not intending to raise a gross injustice and we don’t like to talk about bad things, I understand, but it’s there and that’s mind bending for the average dude. 😦
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As a nurse who is currently on nights, yes, one feels like the proverbial, but, if one has better nutrition (it’s tempting to eat rubbish at night, particularly in the hospital where the diet seems to be aimed at converting one into a patient), exercise, and a daily glass of Pink Drink with one’s fellow patrons at the Pigs Arms makes it all seem worthwhile!
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You’re certainly right about the value of the PA, Big M… I dunno what I’d have done without it, or my blues guitar courses, or my computer games, or my dvds, these last two and a half years or so… It’s taken all of the above to retain what miniscule fragment of sanity yet remains, round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare… The lone and level sands stretch far away…
What was I saying…?
😉
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Gez, that Leda lady with a swan is not fat, it just an unfortunate angle that the painter has taken…
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The swan was much more fortunate.
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Must’a taken her by surprise I reck’n!
😉
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Indeed, Helvi… rather on the ‘athletic’ side of ‘voluptuous’, I’d say…
😉
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Not sure about the right arm, asty. It appears to be screwed around…
😉
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True, ‘Shoe… and there’s no doubt at all about where the swan’s head is… but Leda looks asleep to me… Am I correct, Ato, in thinking that she was asleep at the time of Zeus’s amorous advances? It would at least be some kind of explanation as to why a woman might copulate with a swan… although I do believe stranger things have happened (stranger than copulating with a swan, I mean; though not, of course, quite so strange as to get pregnant by some form of wildlife…)
Anyway… as I was just saying… I’ve had enough of this bleeding machine for the time being! I’m of to watch’t telly! ‘Night ‘Shoe… ‘Night all… ‘Night John-boy!
😉
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Quite so, asty. Zeus only every came from behind and, preferably when they were alseep. In this case, she was asleep with her legit husband, Tyndareus when, in the guise of a swan, he slid into the bed and bestowed upon Leda his… blessings, in the guise of two eggs!
Imagine the scene the following morning! Two huge eggs lying next to Leda which -suddenly, they began to hatch! Shock upon horror! And THEN, out of these eggs pop four super gorgeous children Double twins! (You can’t call them quads because they didn’t all come out of the same egg). Anyhow, both, Leda and her husband, Tyndareus took it as the huge blessing it was. Helen and Klytaemestra (spelled in a variety of ways) and Castor and Polydeuces. The boys went straight to heaven and became divinities. The girls ended up half-divinities, half miserable mortals.
Eventually, Helen was declared (effing Aphrodite!) the most gorgeousest woman on earth. Klytaemestra was only ever known as “the sister of the most beautiful mortal” or the “wife of the most powerful man (Agamemnon)” or the one who hated Helen, or the one who horned her husband and then killed him, or the one who was killed by her son! Isn’t amazing how you can end up with the roughest end of the egg sometimes? I mean all her other siblings ended up in heaven and she ended up with Aegisthus before she joined him and her husband down in the gloom halls of Hades!
There are variations to the myth, of course but this is the dominant one through the ages.
I was left muchly awed by Cezanne’s “The rape of Europa” (Titian also did a similar painting) which I can’t find on the net but which I saw at the Oz art Gallery in Canberra. Simple lines of Zeus as a bull with poor Europa between his massive thighs. Very simple lines, simple greens. Stunning painting.
Zeus was a very horny bastard! (Also probably because he had a nag of a wife… or his wife, Hera, was a nag because he was such a sleaze!)
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‘mou, I get it! This telling by you of the story gelled, coagulated, and fell into the myth repository out of which myth making is equally fuelled, making song wiritng and poetry come alive in the context of lineage, the historical advance of literature, history, culture, I get it! The awkward senses fell away. I get it!
🙂
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Huh?
I was just talking in my sleep, shoe!
Do that all my waking hours.
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Is the pop drink the culprit. Too much sugar? You are right, we would get a cordial drink and only on birthdays. Now Coca drinks are used at the dinner table, yuk.. Some people at the dinner table look a bit strange when you just have caraffe of water.
Look at old fotos and you’ll notice people were slimmer, not just here but world wide. On TV the ads are now changing in making overweight people feeling good and accepted but above al, if you are fat come and buy our products, we love you and I am also like you!
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Coke’s the evil empire, Gez; and beware red cordial above ALL cordial… I too remember cordial being a rare treat; and fizzy pop of any sort even rarer, when I was a kid… Gord knows I had energy to burn back then… wish I had some of it now…
🙂
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Curiously enough regarding those who do and those who don’t… a friend of mine at university, bit of a bright spark was desperate for employment post- finishing his degree in biochem honours, and he could fly a plane, played guitar in a band, he was a good dancer, looked good, was strong, had a lovely mum, a dad, car, contacts…
He threw open the door of his refrigerator when I asked how his job hunting was going and announced “Great. I get all this too.” The refrigerator was pretty well loaded with spam.
I gazed in and asked, doubtful, “You work for a grocer?”
“No” he said, triumphant, no mistaking, “Spam. I’m a Spam salesman. Do you want some?”
I felt embarrassed to admit I couldn’t eat Spam. Embarrassed for him.
“I really LOVE it,” he announced unreservedly, pulling a can out of the refrigerator. “You sure?”
🙂
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Yes, I would find it daunting to be a ‘door to door’ spam saleman nowaday. Do you open a can and give them a free taste? How would one promote the benefits of spam?
I remember an Indonesian-born friend and family who were holed up in a migrant camp at Villawood (Leichtonfield-camp) in the fifties. The mother would cook up a very nice and spicey mixture using spam as its main ingredients together with green beens and boiled rice. We would all eat together seated on cane chairs in the heat of those corregated Nisan Huts. They felt very happy there with plenty of food and so many other migrants, all in the same boat (so to speak) and fried up spam.
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Needless to be said this, Gez, possibly, other than between friends over a pink drink in a shadowy bar such as this, the spam salesman whose title I capitalised (above) to attempt a grab of the moment he announced to me his apparent calling-that was a love match-has done preternatually well for himself. By dint of moving where the mood took him which was to Fleet Street, he holds a signicant post up in Australian publishing. When I lunched with him once in these intervening years, he was charmingly surprised over our Sauvignon Rouge I remembered his aprenticeship selling spam. 🙂
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Well… as a Spam salesman, he had to say that, didn’t he, ‘Shoe?
😉
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I fell for it, astyages, as gospel. Spose he was rehearsing for the road. 😉
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Salesmen and Jehovah’s Witlesses are the best actors in the world, ‘Shoe’ their livelihood depends on their acting talent! Of course they look and sound UTTERLY sincere; but who knows really, eh? And can a man with a fridge full o’ spam be trusted? He might be on the lam… but definitely a ‘ham’! (ie. ‘actor’!)
Anyway… unless I see any more comments in this thread which I feel the urgent need to answer immediately, as I keep saying: I’m off to watch’t telly!
😉
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Another piece of insight into the life of the Young Mr Oosterman. Yes, the Western world has become fatter, so continues to justify it’s obesity by decrying the thin person as being ‘too thin’, ‘not healthy’ and applauding the fatty with ‘her curves are so sexy’ (don’t know about his curves!).
There’s plenty of evidence that consuming fat probably isn’t making us fat, that it is the huge amount of carbohydrates that push up insulin (the storage hormone) levels, thus the focus on Glycaemic Index measurements for food. In spite of all of this science we continue to grow outwards. Why so?
I do seem to remember that, at Spam’s (and other tinned fatty treats) height of fame, a ‘family block’ of chocolate was 100 g, shared between four or five, and Easter only went for a day, Christmas went for two days, there were no advent calenders (had to get Jesus, albeit, the baby one, in there somewhere). Cordials and soft drinks were only for special occasions, not the nightly aperitif for the kiddies. I mean, that money had to be spent on hard working Dad’s ciggies and beer, not wasted on those unproductive kids.
People seemed to move more in them olden days. The car was there to get Dad to work, tow the trailer around for the (second job) mowing run, which us kids got to enjoy, and do the fortnightly shopping. It was not for driving kids to the beach, or Judo lessons, or the library, or, heaven forbid, school. Today you’re a bad parent if you haven’t taken out a second mortgage on a light armoured personnel carrier at the conception of the first child, or, ‘how will you get the kids around safely?’
Fat probably isn’t good, but, most find the alternative as too unpalatable.
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They used to make kids move around so much more. Now, parents are filled with fear so that kids are guarded like vaulted gold bars. The media has whipped all that fear up. The biggest danger comes from those large SUV’s that seem to run over kids almost weekly. They now install reverse cameras and are all blue teeth enabled. Not a word about the danger of those vehicles. Was it yesterday I read that some Scandinavian countries are thinking of banning them as being un-roadworthy?
One reason why kids get picked up are those enormous Sherpa like back packs. What is in those back-packs? We just used to have a small satchel and a good catapult.
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“In spite of all of this science we continue to grow outwards. Why so?”
With an aging population such as Oz’s… I’d put it down to ‘middle-aged-spread’!
😉
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