Expired Beef Jerky

At the end of 2009 I purchased about 450 sticks of expired jerky at the reasonable price of $5.79 per 24 sticks. As I well know but you may not, Ihave a crush on expired anything. I love a perishable food item. My love of expired entrees is apparent in my history of taking any old foodstuff in as a mascot, and in my tendency to consume said entrees, especially if warned against them. What else is a warning but a sideways dare? As I’m writing this I’ll occasionally look over to my empty 7 lb can of chocolate pudding container, and beside that my empty 7 pound can of vanilla pudding container and beside that my face grinning back at both of them.

I began this year by traveling cross-country with only 450 sticks of beef jerky to my name. The jerky served several uses, as a high protein/high sodium power food, as a method of keeping myself awake (C’mon Dan’l, drive on through. Do it for the jerky), as occasional eveningwear, as a way to fill that jerky-shaped void in my van, as an inflammatory, and as an anti-inflammatory. After five days of driving and 63 pieces of jerky, I made it to California.

Some months ago the jerky ran out. Which I had not expected. I’m of the school that if you purchase over 400 of anything, you should be good for life. This has been the case with socks. Not so with delicious straight-from-the-discount-freight-salvage-grocer jerky. My blood pressure dropped, as did my hopes of ever seeing that much expired jerky in one floorboard again.

Then a local miracle. I found a piece of teriyaki I’d overlooked in previous whole-van searches for stray sticks. It was in the circular hollow where a spare tire might ride in other contexts. It no longer tasted like teriyaki, but had decayed into something like a feint barbeque. And not a high-end barbeque sauce. A sauce that someone tries to play off by saying “Really it tastes better than KC Masterpiece if you use it on the grill.” I am of course referring to Cattleman’s, which I have long suspected of actually being ketchup with just a little bit of catsup thrown in to keep folks off the trail. I ate the last piece of jerky unceremoniously, vowing to make it special should I ever find the last piece of jerky again. I kept finding the last piece of jerky. Slid up in the passenger side visor, inside a glove in my glove compartment, underneath another piece jerky that I’d also suspected to be the last piece of jerky.

The above image was intended to push the boundaries between sexuality and consumption. After purchasing $72 worth of expired jerky, attempted erotic pics seemed like the next logical step. It's always important to roll in your winnings.