Today my dad brought home this stuff called "Scrapple" from the grocery store. It's a meat by-product that comes from the least desirable parts of pig. It's popular in small circles in the Northeast. Its ingredients read "pork shoulder, pork tongue, pork hearts, pork parts." For god's sake, it's called "Scrapple." That doesn't sound particularly delicious. It brings to mind an image of blood- covered Hormel workers sweeping up pink bits off the slaughter floor with a dustpan and dumping the scraps into a chunky brown boiling brew. "It tastes like a hotdog," Dad said. "You like hotdogs." I never liked hotdogs. If I wake up to the sounds of Scrapple cracking and popping in a pool of Wesson on a sunday morning, I'm heading straight for my lifted Delta vomit bag.

So, I've created a handy chart with which I'll promptly sum things up:

Scrapple = Muckafurgason
Meat = Rock
Pig = Genre
Pork shoulder = Male nerd pop
Pork tongues = Country
Pork hearts = Humor bands
Pork parts = Generic bar rock
Hormel workers = A group of college guys playing in the corner of a living room of a frat house while drunk people stumble over their cables, uninterested, while one freshman sits there singing along to "Bad Ass Fucker" like it's the funniest thing he's heard.
Hotdog = Presidents of the United States of America
Pool of Wesson = Little brother's stereo

-Brent Dicrescenzo