Blog Assignment #7

Oh glorious times the baby days were. Barfing, pooping and crying anytime I wanted, with my mother constantly hovering over me, feeding me food that I promptly spat right back up. Ah, yes…those were the days. It’s a shame I can’t recall them, because those were much happier times. However, there is one way to go back. Whenever I want a taste of nostalgia, I just pop a hot dog in my microwave/time machine, press “3-0-enter”, and away I go on another grand adventure down memory lane.

The ancients who ate hot dogs (or tube steaks, as they were called in ye olden times) probably had the same experiences as me. That could be why the hot dog is such a popular food item nowadays. If it wasn’t amazing in the days of its conception, how could so many different recipes and styles get created? Back when beef and pork were delicacies, the “tube steak” was probably considered to be a meal of the highest quality. It’s only natural that it would be adapted into so many different iterations. The only difference would be that back then the people didn’t have sporting events or movie theaters to enjoy hot dogs at, and they certainly didn’t think it would become an icon in its own right.

Some naysayers may call me crazy for calling the hot dog an American icon, or even for comparing it to real food. But the truth is I eat what I want. The way I see it, if it’s delicious it’s good enough for me. I’ll be eating these things for the rest of my life as far as I’m concerned, and my children are not going through their lives without getting at least one. In some ways the hot dog is a completely carefree meal. You have to be a person who doesn’t worry about what others think of you or your food choices to enjoy one properly. I feel like I’m a person like that.

The point is that I love hot dogs immensely, and have ever since my first few nibbles at the tender age of two. I don’t care about what They put in a hot dog, or how processed and unhealthy hot dogs are for you. I’m in it for the nostalgic feelings that I get when the microwave dings and I put the frank in the bun, then proceed to smother it with condiments. It’s the way that the perfect brown color appears on that big, fat, plumps-as-it-cooks Ballpark Frank. All the fun of a hot dog is getting to the part where you take the first bite, and it’s the same for many others in our society. It’s this experience that keeps people like me coming back for the mystery meat time and time again.

My works-cited page is at shcool! Noooooo! Please, Randy, have mercy on me...