The implication is he has laid a supply in in case Katrina returns or the dead rise to feast upon the living, and he needs to hole up and ride out the emergency.
I like Spam. Or I would like Spam, if it weren’t for the bones.
I have never had a bit of Spam that didn’t have a bone fragment in it. And a crunchy unyielding bit in an otherwise gummable food is quite disturbing. To me at least. Bone free bits are quite delicious.
I had heard rumors about why the tinned pork shoulder and ham was so popular with New Guinea tribesmen. Pesky missionaries had discouraged them from practicing a cherished cultural tradition. But the oldtimers really like the Spam. It reminded them of a now forbidden flavor. Long Pig.
Probably an urban legend. But it sounds good.