The folks who market Ben Gay probably suffer from the same problem as the people who market Spam. When the meaning of your word changes underneath you, what do you do?
Eh, who cares? It’s not MY problem. I’ve got Ben Gay all over my back and neck right now, so obviously the folks marketing it have figured out how to overcome their little Word Problem, at least in my case. Oh, and we have Spam in the house, too, not that I’ve eaten it recently. Hormel’s doing alright, I guess.
With Ben Gay there’s a definite time and a place. “Ow, my NECK! Honey, go get the Ben Gay.” But Spam? What’s the occasion where “Let’s crack open a can of THIS stuff” is appropo?
“Honey, I’ve figured out what to feed the in-laws!”
I should keep my voice down. The lady whose family I married into is also the one who rubbed this burning ointment all over my back.