In 1969, a man named Gerald P. Fondlewrap made a discovery that would change the world. Gerald hadn’t showered in fourteen months. Not out of protest. Not for charity. He’d simply gone goblin mode.
One fateful morning, while scratching an itch in a region he’d neglected for far too long, Gerald noticed something unusual. A smell. A texture. A presence. Laboratory analysis would later identify it as an entirely new species: Penicillium Praepūtium Foraeskinatta.
The scientists who examined the sample quit science.
The Accidental Genius
Gerald, unbothered by the academic exodus he’d caused, did what any reasonable man would do: he scraped it into a jar and called it artisanal. “Smeg Ma,” he declared, “the flavor you didn’t know you were missing.” His roommate moved out that same day.
Against all logic, taste, and federal regulation, people wanted it. Not to eat — god no — but to own. To display. To gift to enemies and friends alike.
The Product Line Expands
Decades later, the P.P. Foraeskinatta culture lives on. We’ve used it to create our signature spread, our inexplicably tangy sourdough, and a legacy of profound discomfort.
Gerald passed away in 2003, surrounded by jars of his creation. His last words: “Tell them it’s organic.” It is. Horrifyingly so.
What We Do Now
Today, Smeg Ma exists to remind you that some things shouldn’t exist — but do anyway. Our products are crafted with the same commitment to hygiene that Gerald pioneered: absolutely none.
We also sell merch. T-shirts. Stickers. Hats. Supplements. Because if you can’t spread it, you can at least wear it.
Smeg Ma: You didn’t ask for this. Nobody did.