*Ø* Blogmanac | Mmmmmm spreadable

I've been saving hard and really deserve a treat, so today I went to buy some jam. Some strawberry jam. For a jam sango.

As I always say, if you've got it, spend it.

The supermarket didn't have any strawberry jam. They had 'Strawberry Spreadable Fruit', in several brands. They also had apricot spreadable fruit, raspberry spreadable fruit and blackberry spreadable fruit. But nary a jar of jam to be found.

Something's going on here. Australians have capitulated to American cultural imperialism in all but two things: firstly, we drink real beer with as much alcohol content as bourbon, and, secondly, we call jam 'jam'. None of this jelly stuff.

But spreadable fruit? What cultural hegemon now invades our shores? If it's not the Seppos, maybe it's the Poms, or the Indonesians maybe.

The only spreadable fruits I ever knew lived down near Oxford Street. Maybe it's them. They always had lots of friends in marketing.

If I find out the name of the spotty-faced advertising whizz-kid with the BMW and personal orthodontist that did this to jam, I'm gonna kidnap him, tie him to a chair and make him watch the Crocodile Man.

He'll be wishing I had a TV, is all I can say, by the time I get through doing my Crocodile Man impressions.

Abundance and gratitude,

Pip