The king of canned meat gets the last laugh : Even Hormel, the maker of Spam, can enjoy a chuckle at the expense of the nearly indestructible dietary staple. Hence its annual ‘Spamjam.’

Several hundred people gathered on a grassy lakeside in this southern Minnesota town Saturday to fish, run, bike and eat--typical activities for a summer weekend. Except that this glorious day there had a far more spiritual purpose: celebrating Spam.

Yes, Spam, the pork shoulder product in the blue-and-yellow can that’s been a staple of American diets and humor for six decades. It is the undisputed king of canned meat.

Just ask the good folks at Hormel Foods Corp., maker of the nearly indestructible product as well as the largest employer in this town of 22,000 and organizer of this fifth annual “Spamjam.” According to Hormel’s actuarial wizards, Americans consume Spam at the staggering rate of 3.8 cans per second--which, for the record, is a lot faster than they down cans of those little Vienna sausages.

At this all-day Spamfest, people waited for servings of Spam and eggs, Spam burgers and Spam kebabs.

Mike Breckken, a Missouri college student, stood in line for 30 minutes for what was supposed to be a Spam and eggs breakfast. By 10 a.m. the eggs were gone, leaving people with Spam and pancakes.

But the egg shortage really didn’t matter since Breckken and others were really there for the Spam.

“I eat a can every two weeks,” Breckken said. “I even have my roommate from Kansas eating it.”

Nearly as long as the food line was the line to purchase a myriad of byproducts, from Spam boxer shorts to Spam wrapping paper.

Andriette Wickstrom of Storm Lake, Iowa, dressed from head to toe in Spam garb, was dragging a box filled with 10 Spam T-shirts, three Spam water bottles, Spam golf balls, a couple of Spam hats and Spam gift wrap for some of the items she says she will give away as gifts.

Wickstrom describes herself as a collector of Spam items. Her habit started several years ago when she ordered a Spam cutting board from a promotion. Now, she admits, “it’s out of control.”

There was even a performance by the Spamettes, a group headed by Sonia Larson, a music teacher at Austin’s community college. She started the Spamettes five years ago “as a joke because I always wanted to be Hammy Swinette and stand by your Spam.”

The group takes popular songs such as “Stand by Your Man” and “Camelot” and reworks them into Spam songs. “I have a boring life,” she said, laughing.

Truthfully, no one really knows what makes Spam so popular. V. Allan Krejci, Hormel’s director of public affairs, said if he could identify what made Spam so successful, the company would apply the formula to all its 1,600 products--of which Spam is by far the biggest seller.

Yet even Hormel executives speculate that the biggest reason Spam has maintained its popularity is that the pinkish shoulder meat has been the butt of jokes since it entered the American psyche in a big way during World War II, when it was a mainstay of GI meals. Today it remains a common punch line for stand-up comics and late-night talk-show hosts.

“Spam can be an easy brunt of a joke,” said Krejci, who sported a Spam T-shirt and a straw hat festooned with a blue-and-yellow Spam banner. “We enjoy good humor.”

Part of the reason is its appearance. Sitting in the can, Spam is not pretty. The meat is packed in a glob and is surrounded by a pale-colored gel. Once sliced and fried, the meat turns darker and tastes like salty ham.

And it lasts forever. Krejci said a homemaker once asked the company to test her 19-year-old can of Spam.

“It was edible,” he said. “But I don’t recommend keeping a can that long.”

At the 1-million-square-foot Hormel plant here, only 13 people per shift are needed to churn out 435 cans of Spam a minute. More than 5 billion cans of the gelatinous mass have rolled off the assembly line, along with some help from another smaller Hormel plant in Fremont, Neb.

Unlike popular lore, Spam does not contain pigs’ snouts or eye parts. It is made from pork shoulder meat, which is mixed with ham, salt, sugar and sodium nitrate, which is a preservative. Hence the name Spam--spiced ham.

At 1,020 calories per 12-ounce can, however, it is not exactly considered a health food. Those concerns led the company to offer a lower-fat version three years ago.

Austin isn’t the only place that goes a little nuts celebrating Spam.

Several Spam cooking contests are held each year at state and county fairs. At annual events in Hawaii, Seattle and Austin, Tex., people use Spam in nearly everything from biscuits to scalloped potatoes to sculpting material.

Hawaii? Yes.

In fact, the Hormel marketing experts say Hawaiians eat more Spam per person than residents of any other state--consuming 4.3 million cans a year--followed by Alaska, Texas and Alabama.

Hormel says Hawaiians like Spam because the salty meat goes well with rice and pineapple dishes. It was even the focus of a carving contest at the Hawaii State Fair recently.