"is that ham processed? If it's processed I don't want it"
Ma'am, that is an eleven pound whole slab of deli ham. It has no bones, fat, or connective tissue. It is an amalgamation of the meat of several pigs, emulsified, liquefied, strained, and ultimately inexorably joined in an unholy meat obelisk. God had no hand in the creation of this abhorrence. The fact that this ham monolith exists proves that God is either impotent to alter His universe or ignorant to the horrors taking place in his kingdom. This prism of pork is more than deli meat. It is a physical declaration of mankind's contempt for the natural order. It is hubris manifest. We also have a lower sodium variety if you would prefer that.

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I know it sounds crazy, but whenever I touch these sandwiches, you're gonna laugh at me, you're gonna think I'm nuts, you're gonna think I'm crazy... when I touch these sandwiches, I feel the hands of every person who's touched them before and after me. And I feel this jolt of freakin' lightning or something from my head to the tip of my you-know-what. Sometimes while I'm grabbing these sandwiches with my bare hands I just can't help but throw my head back in ecstasy and moan. So whenever I go out and talk to chicks, the chicks say to me "What do you do?" and I say "Yes I do grab sandwiches with my bare hands in a factory... and don't laugh, don't laugh at me, I feel like a spirit and like orbs shoot through my body every time I grab a sandwich." You know, a lot of people laugh at me, they beat me up, they give me black eyes, they broke my nose four times, y'know, because, because I like to make san

niiiaaa

DooDoo

caca