(Hey, check out my special Easter Greetings on the blog).

And dear god man, how can you not love ham? Even the processed, mangled, dyed, over-salted slabby pink version most people know.

But -- if you've never had real ham, right off a dead pig, you've never had, well... real ham. It really is the other white meat. 'Cause the real stuff, like my grandparents used to carve off their piggies on the farm (never mind that I'd previously hung out with and befriended said piggies) was fluffy and white/gray and oh so very tasty.

Even if, the day before Easter or Thanksgiving Dinner, I was riding that pig around the barnyard. How I managed to escape major trauma from all this, I have no idea -- although when I was about 12, the guy who did the slaughtering gave me a sheep's gaulstone as a souvenir, and I had that thing for years. It was the size of a ping pong ball.

On the other hand -- the year they finally killed their goose and served it for Christmas was great, 'cause that goose was bloody evil. The muthafarker bit me several times, and considered it a great offense that I'd walk anywhere near the chickens. Bastard.

Did I mention that, on Good Friday, I had cheeseburgers? Yummy yummy cheeseburgers, with lots of meat and lots of cheese. Up yours, Pope Joey Rats.

Never rode cows as a kid...

But, um, anyway -- EAT HAM. Or bring me the leftovers. Mashed potatoes on the side, please...

We all miss you so much here at PersaCon and we're so excited for your return!