I ate two hot dogs on Labor Day (with mustard and diced onion!), and, you know, that felt normal, that felt like America. So in a way I felt closer to the essence of our great nation, the very bedrock of its soul, than perhaps I ever have.
The bedrock of our soul, see, is two guys seeing how many hot dogs they can eat in 10 minutes.
It's a Netflix live stream of the event on a national holiday.
It's hyping Joey Chestnut, one of the guys, vs. Takeru Kobayashi, the other guy, as if it were, I don't know, Ali vs. Frazier, Napoleon vs. Wellington, Burr vs. Hamilton.
It's stupid, it's awesome, it's traditional American values: Gluttony, conspicuous consumption, ginned-up drama to distract the masses. Chestnut-Kobayashi! The Super Bowl Of Stuffing Your Face! Showdown Of The Chowhounds! Munch Madness!
Oh, it was a hell of a show, all right, not to say the height of American silliness. In this corner, Chestnut, the world champion of that great contradiction in terms, competitive eating. In the other corner, Kobayashi, his longtime Japanese rival who's all but retired now.
It wasn't so much Ali taking on Frazier in Manila as Ali taking on Joe Louis in 1970 or so, when Joe Louis was pushing 60. The results, therefore, were entirely predictable: Joey smoked Takeru 83 dogs to 66, setting a new world record in the process.
And every American's heart swelled with pride.
Or acid reflux. Coulda been that, too.
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