The post where Dale Jr. tells you how to eat a ham sandwich

On Monday, racing fans were treated to a full day of car racing, postponed from weather delays on Sunday.  Among those restarting after rain deluged the eastern half of the United States were the NHRA in North Carolina, NASCAR in Virginia, and IndyCar in St. Petersburg, FL.

Given the unusual scenario of racing on a Monday, these events provided no shortage of drama and intrigue, capped by the incredulously-named Australian Will Power winning the second IRL race of the season.  Considering Power's win in the first race of the season two weeks ago in Sao Paolo and I'd say the man is clearly going out like a lion this month.

2010 IRL points leader Will Power was born in Toowoomba, Australia.

I swear to you I'm not making this up.

Some might ask whether Dale Earnhardt, Jr. could use some will power at this point.  His last win in NASCAR's Sprint Cup Series was almost two years and over sixty races ago.  But his performance on the track, not altogether unsurprisingly, has very little to do with the fact that Junior is not only NASCAR's most popular driver, but its' highest earning as well.  According to this week's Forbes magazine, without even winning a race last season, Earnhardt, Jr. made $30 million based on endorsements, sponsorships, and merchandise sales.

Because Earnhardt, Jr. is the most highly sought-after endorsement talent in NASCAR, I was drawn to his recent partnership with the mayonnaise company Hellmanns.

Iron Chefs, the Earnhardts are not.  But I suppose that's what

being part of a "real" meal is all about.

Specifically, what interests me is how our culture's fascination with celebrity extends into the strangest of areas and, in this case, into their kitchen.  Certainly we are constantly faced with celebrity chefs, but I think they can be excluded because their ethos is grounded in their expertise: culinary school, restaurant experience, etc.

Of course, extending the need to know what and how an athlete eats only adds new endorsement opportunities for athletes by presenting them outside of the world of sport (I'm purposefully excluding the litany of athletes who consume Gatorade, Red Bull, Powerbars, etc.).  Thanks to the pervasiveness of advertising, we can know such mundane details as what they use to shave, get over a cold, and now, the best way to eat a ham sandwich.

"Real food," apparently, doesn't include vegetables.  Unless, of course,

you count the potato salad made with an entire cup of mayo.

I understand why these advertisements exist, but I'm curious to know who, exactly, would be lured to making something because it comes from "Dale Jr.'s family."  It makes no sense to me.  But, I suppose, I have always preferred to hold the mayo.