Spam As Folk Art for 2007 August 12

"Oh Reynaldo," yawned Beatriz, "truly, your kisses set me aflame."

"Just a minute," said Reynaldo, mashing buttons, tongue through his teeth in concentration. "If I make this conversion, we go to the Super Bowl."

"I am sure your arch-rival Don Vicente could never match them," growls Beatriz.

"Fine," snaps Reynaldo. "Fine! Um, your body is the flame, my darling, and I am drawn like a moth to its doom, etcetera."

Beatriz taps away at the keyboard. "Okay!" she says. "Good. Now give me a euphemism for 'penis.'"

"Oh, just check your spam folder," grumbles Reynaldo, as the Patriots pile on.