Independence Day and hot dogs
First of all, I prefer the older reference, “Independence Day.” The Fourth of July is merely a date. “Independence Day” gives it true meaning. After all, we do not call Christmas the “25th of December.” We do not refer to Martin Luther King Jr. Day as the “15th of January,” or Presidents Day as the “Third Monday of February.” That would make no sense and would strip the holidays of their meaning. Thank God Thanksgiving floats—so we can’t replace the name with a date.
(Speaking of Presidents Day, that one annoys me. We used to celebrate Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays on two separate days. That seemed more appropriate since, by most measures, they are our greatest and most significant presidents. Now they’re lumped in with the likes of James Buchanan and William Henry Harrison, who lasted only one month in office. Bunching Washington and Lincoln in with the other 43 presidents feels more like an insult than an honor. But I digress.)
Independence Day is both a patriotic holiday and a social event. Over time, it has become less patriotic and more social. Many community parades have been abandoned. (I don’t recall a parade in Chicago for years.) They are now mostly found in small towns and suburban communities. Many fireworks displays have been downgraded or eliminated for “safety reasons.” Sousa marches have been replaced by rap. And the iconic fireworks music? Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture – which, ironically, celebrates Russia’s defeat of Napoleon.
Unfortunately, patriotism is a downer these days. We do a terrible job of teaching civics and American history in our government-run schools—if we teach it at all. Those on the left burn the flag, kneel for the National Anthem (which has been dropped from many occasions), and refuse to say the Pledge of Allegiance (also dropped from many schools and events). We are loath to honor the men and women who have defended our liberty – many giving “their last full measure of devotion.” We recently saw the left demean the 250th anniversary of the United States Army—an Army that was first formed to fight for independence. Without a patriotic bond, we’ve drifted from E Pluribus Unum toward a confederation of tribes.
But there is still some joy to be found in celebrating Independence Day. It is now more of a cultural holiday than a patriotic one. It’s a day of picnics and backyard barbecues.
Most holidays have their special foods. Thanksgiving has the turkey. Christmas, the ham (replacing the once-iconic goose), and Easter, the lamb. In terms of food, Independence Day reigns supreme with… the hot dog.
I have always considered the hot dog nature’s most perfect food. Every food group known to man can be found on that special bun—unless you’re one of those who doesn’t dress it properly.
My fondness for the quintessential hot dog may stem from my Austrian ancestry on my father’s side. In its day, the hot dog was called a “wiener.” If you’re a true hot dog lover, you’ll be able to sing the Oscar Mayer Wiener song. (“Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer wiener…”) As a child, I even had a toy version of the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.
If the hot dog weren’t the American food, why would we have a contest in which the champion consumes more than 70 of them in 10 minutes? I don’t know of any hamburger-eating contests.
Like everything else, there is controversy. It has to do with ketchup. Those of us who grew up in Chicago (like me) believe that ketchup and a hot dog should never appear on the same table at the same time. In fact, we have hot dog vendors in Chitown who refuse to apply the red stuff. My local vendor displays signs with a red circle and slash over a ketchup bottle. And if you request it, he gives you packets of ketchup and tells you not to add it to the dog while on his property. Really.
I am buoyed by Pope Leo. As a Chicagoan, I am hoping he will add ketchup on a hot dog as a sin – just a venial sin, of course.
Alas… I will lament the loss of patriotism while indulging in some number of hot dogs. And with that, I hope you have a wonderful Fourth of—oops—Independence Day.
So, there ’tis.
The author is falling into a deep curmudgeon trance as he can’t laud Trump accomplishments that matter to the people so he has to whine and lament about anything to the left. Fucking hot dogs bring him to blow against the Democratic empire. Just freaking amazing how much hate this guy has built up over his millennium on the planet. Hot dogs good, Democrats bad, yeah — sure.
For a winner, what a whiner.
It just chaps my britches when he spews: “Those on the left burn the flag, kneel for the National Anthem (which has been dropped from many occasions), and refuse to say the Pledge of Allegiance (also dropped from many schools and events). We are loath to honor the men and women who have defended our liberty – many giving “their last full measure of devotion.” We recently saw the left demean the 250th anniversary of the United States Army—an Army that was first formed to fight for independence. Without a patriotic bond, we’ve drifted from E Pluribus Unum toward a confederation of tribes.” I feel so sorry for our resident curmudgeon who likes to brand his detractors as same. Yes, some burn the flag, make statements during the Anthem or Pledge, and they are mostly on the left, but some on the right. Even high ranking righties have been known to fly flags upside down or feature flags of incitement they later pretend they didn’t know about. But it’s not just the left and it’s fringe on the left. The author kvetches too much. As far as the tribes, exsqueeze me? I think you guys invented “tribes” and lead the pack when it comes to tribalism. We still honor diverse opinions, you “primary” them. Or worse. Really? You needed this crap to honor the hot dog? Why? And, as to the Trump parade and demeaning the Army: who was there to know? Even the few Trump supporters who showed up, left early. My God, he has millions surrounding the city, and he couldn’t even fill his VIP seating chart.
Until that little vomit of thoughts, the author and I had previously come together over the dog. I know he likes em the way they should be: snappy. And he really knows his Chi-dogs, again, the way they should be. Matter of fact, gonna get me some of that Chi dressings and maybe a dog based on that article. Myself, I love Hot Dog Johnny’s dogs, down on the banks of the Pequest River on ole Route 46, the original west bound road from NY to PA at the Gap. Johnny came home from war, opened a stand in what looked like an outhouse, expanded, became a roadside wonder, with neon lights, kid’s playground, sandboxes,x pic-a-nic tables, flowers, and the best fries in all NJ. Not the best dogs, but the ambiance makes up for it. Today, it’s handed down to Patti and she’s a pip. Better to say nothing, terrible to say the wrong thing, and don’t try to kiss up —- tough but fair. It’s 1950 roadside as it should be. The dogs: no ketchup; mustard, sour onions, and a pickle slab. There is no menu, and IF you say what’s on em, stand back. IF you request ketchup, duck. But IF you are seasoned, you can ask for “the route 80 dog,” Route 80 Interstate being what almost put Johnny’s under, a dog where they add blood, i.e., ketchup to the dog and when you order it, everyone in line goes “ooooh, what’s that?” and Patti smiles in recognition. FYI: the onions on these dogs are so strong that you can visit a store an hour later and chances are, if they know Johnny’s, they will know that you were just there. Not good to take home in car even with the windows down. The author remembers the Oscar Meyer song; I remember the Szelagowski song for Shelly’s hot dogs; you can find it on the web. Buffalo had a lot of Polish back then and cooking meat was our way from Roast Beef on Kummelweck to dogs, sausage, kielbasa, n such.
Legend has it that Johnny met his demise by truck just outside his roadside stand. May or may not be true, but the legend is the truth today.
Myself, for home use, I build the super chili dog, onions, coleslaw, bean-less vege-chili, cheese, lots of cheese, and then broiled in the bun, messy, and must be eaten with a knife n fork. They are a joy to behold and I use Hebrew National 97% fat free dogs and vege-chili now to pretend it’s healthier.
This would have been a delightful story if only the curmudgeon could take a break for a minute.
Dunger you have no clue what you’re talking about. Can’t prove it, don’t spout it.
Howeird Blankashit does not make sense. What can’t I prove? That it’s a delightful story save the curmudgeon part? Or that I like Hot Dog Johnny’s? Getting how weird and blank as shit, dude. Try AI. Look smarter.
I spell my my name: danger. You like dunger. Figures.
Ah, I see this “Conservative site) is still turning left on a right turn only street. Sick when authors lie. When did this site turn Liberal? That is even more sick.