Good lord. Boy-Ar-Dee was bad, but this single image is nauseating in ways even that awful pizza could never match. That loaf-like object in the foreground is Prem, some kind of canned meat product manufactured by Swift.
It just doesn't look right. I mean, Spam is weird, but at least when you have a can of it, it's Spam through and through. Prem is horribly mottled and chunky. It's like each bite is from some different animal. The surface looks like a cross-section of some large rodent. Look at the close-up, for god's sake:
And those two kids are willingly putting this stuff in their mouths. At least four sandwiches of it, with extra on the side. I'd have to say the worst part of this ad is how the kid's freckles match the texture of the Prem. It looks like someone just carved eyes and snaggly teeth into a loaf of the stuff.
Even the name is bad. "Spam" may not be appetizing per se, but it does have a certain comfortable feel to it. It's predictable. What's for lunch? Spam. But "Prem" just sounds like a belch, or a not-quite swear word i.e. darn, heck, etc. "Aw, Prem, we're having those gross sandwiches again."
Despite the horrifying appearance, I do have a lot of respect for Prem. Why? Read the text:
Compared to your usual '60s ad copy, this reads like Shakespeare. Their suggestions, albeit disgusting ones, are given in a true spirit of helpfulness. They don't try to justify their ideas; just take them or leave them. Why make a Prem and jelly sandwich? "Just to be different," that's why. They even make a thoughtful suggestion for giving them "a Frenchy flair," in case your family is too sophisticated for the luncheon loaf as is.
The second panel is even better. It leaves behind the usual constraints of advertising and waxes poetic. "O, the versatility of this delicious loaf!" the author rejoices. It's the canned-meat equivalent of a Biblical psalm. And not only does the ad offer convenient suggestions, it frees the cook from the shackles of conventional meat-product use: "Let your imagination take over," it urges.
By the end, you've completely forgotten that Prem looks like dog entrails, and you're ready to start cooking. It's a rare triumph. So, yes, I do admire Prem. Just don't ask me to eat any of it.
