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Vitiello to Distribute Irregular Decorative Hams to Needy
By Brock Belvedere, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer

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24-Piece Men GM and ornamental meat magnate Chris Vitiello announced today that he will distribute several thousand irregular decorative hams to needy families.
“It came to my attention that there are a number of island-type people without decorative hams in their homes,” said the executive, who, for reasons unclear, was carefully examining a dessicated gourd. “I grew up poor, always wanting and so I understand their plight.”
Vitiello will supervise the distribution process and has already targeted specific homes in the Lankville Eastern End and the Northern Hole Area.
“These are two of the filthiest, most degenerate places in all of Lankville and therefore the most needy,” said Vitiello.
Area organizers, however, are already questioning Vitiello’s offer.
“People need real hams,” said Quentz Lister, who helps run a “Soups Kitchen”. “I’m not sure of the value of fake ones.”
Lister was immediately beheaded.
The distribution will begin later in the month.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man by Chris Vitiello
By Chris Vitiello

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During certain times of the year, our concern offers a stunning decorative ham that appears already sliced. I will place this ham for you on your table or near to your sofa, lounge chair or futon, if that is how you choose to live your life. A white plate is placed beneath the flawless slices– I advise on two or perhaps three slices at most. We then will provide a quart of “Vitiello’s Special Lustrous Juices Supplement” (extra charge) to enhance the effect.
And people will say, “my goodness, look at that freshly-sliced ham.”
And you will say, “indeed, yes.” And then it will be your chore to divert their attention away from the ham– it being entirely decorative, of course.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man by Chris Vitiello
By Chris Vitiello

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There is so much to a Vitiello Decorative Ham. When it arrives at your door, you will receive a little card, inserted into a delicate golden envelope. Removing the card, which is printed on only the finest papers, you will find that each ham has been named. At the bottom of the card, you will discover a “seal” which forever binds you legally to the ham. There needs to be accountability.
I was once asked to host an award show for decorative meats. But then it was decided that I could not host, as I would likely be the winner. Coffee was served and fragile, graceful women moved about the tables which were covered in finespun gauze. There was no place for me to hide my whip– I wrapped it around my neck as a challenge to the men. And the men backed down.
I was awarded a prize and as I was leaving the ceremony, one of the fragile, graceful women called my name in a coquettish fashion. I whipped her mercilessly. I would not allow the tyranny of her sex to crush me.
Later, I went home and wrapped myself in overly hot towels, head to toe. I collapsed out of sheer exhaustion into bed. I thought of my award as a sort of bad dream.
The next morning I took one of my decorative hams and cracked it open. Stale air was released.
That was the last time I hurt them.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man
By Chris Vitiello

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On Thursdays, the ships bring in the giant containers of decorative hams. They are loaded onto flatbed trucks, driven east and they arrive in great stacks at my factory. I supervise what comes next.
The workers, lurking in halls, suddenly descend upon the great receptacles. Upon occasion, it is necessary for me to whip them but they have grown used to the process and even developed a certain modicum of efficiency. I watch them unload the decorative hams into smaller containers.
I use the word container but really, for me, these are decorative ham reliquaries. It is a shame that they are made of cold, poorly-painted steel. They should be bejeweled.
Next, the decorative hams are rolled on carts towards the patented Vitiello Conveyor Cinctures. They are further decorated as they move slowly by a series of skilled craftsmen in aprons. And finally each decorative ham is paraded past my office window. Decorative hams not worthy of the Vitiello name are burned in secret indoor pits.
I come from nothing. Out of the mountains of West Lankville– my father was a violent drunk. He came home to the trailer every night with a different woman. “Here’s your new mama,” he would scream, pushing the harlot onto the sofa next to me. Even then, I made little decorative hams out of paper. I had a dream.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man By Chris Vitiello
The Greater Lankville Presenter of Certain Types of News is pleased to present a new series by 24-Piece Men GM and decorative ham magnate Chris Vitiello.

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One morning, after a pleasant fall of snow, I sent a letter to someone with whom I had decorative ham business (he was buying 10 hams for his daughter’s room). In my letter, I failed to mention the snow. The reply was amusing: “Do you suppose that I shall take any notice of what someone says who is so perverse that he writes a letter without a word of inquiry as to how I am enjoying the snow? I am disappointed in you.”
The author of that letter is now dead (he was mauled by cubs) but even after all these years, that trivial incident sticks hardily in my mind.
On the Decorative Ham by Chris Vitiello: AN OPINION PIECE
By Chris Vitiello

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It need not be a holiday or even a special occasion to place a decorative ham. Nor is the placement of a decorative ham limited to one room of your home. I even stress the outdoors during my professional placements. I have placed decorative hams on porch gliders, in hammocks, in trees and on fences. The possibilities are limitless.
Imagine, if you will, a home without a decorative ham. You can’t, can you? That is because my decorative hams have become so ubiquitous that they are mere second nature to even the most casual observer. Even the blind are aware of the decorative ham. I often encourage the blind to take both their hands and grope the decorative ham. I also do the same in schools.
It is fashionable at this time of year to place decorative hams in windows, particularly windows with high visibility to the street. Depending on your home decor, I will sometimes place a laurel wreath or a series of ribbons around the decorative ham. At other times, we elect to go with candor– the decorative ham is placed naked in the window– perhaps not even set properly. It can be quite startling.
My consultations are free. I will come to your home.
The opinions of Mr. Vitiello are not necessarily the opinions of the Lankville Post-Dispatch Intelligencer News of Some of the Nations.
Musings of a Decorative Ham Man by Chris Vitiello

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For the final hour of our negotiations with the Players Union, I sat quietly in a corner with my whip extended.
I cannot describe the self-control that was required. I simply wanted to rise, soundlessly move across the carpet and thrash everyone mercilessly.
But I abstained.
In the decorative ham world, there is no room for negotiation. We do not sit around tables in windowless rooms. We do not order large trays of colored bagels. There are no soup tureens with little cans of fire beneath. There is no ice.
My first partner once attempted to give me a birthday party. I was asked to cut the cake. I took the knife and with absolutely no expression on my face, quartered it perfectly, sliding each section across the table and into a trashcan. The icing left a long smear upon the surface. Then I turned over the cardboard bottom and then the table. “I HAVE SPOKEN,” I said, dramatically. Everyone knew after that.
I took the rest of that day off and went to a mall. I entered a men’s store, elbowing several people out of the way, still maintaining that cold, expressionless visage. “You will sell me two suits, both as black as night,” I told the clerk. “I will NOT be measured.” The clerk eyed my form fearfully. “Socks?” he asked. I thought about this. “Yes, you will sell me two pairs. Black. Black as the bottom of the grave.”
“And the beneath-pants,” he said, his voice quivering. “We have…white soft cotton…they hug the nether regions. And we have longer…longer beneath-pants. Some have designs.”
“NO,” I yelled.
Twenty minutes later, I left with two suits. They have served me in the precise manner that I desired.







































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