Hotdoggery

 I managed to scarf down two hotdogs (with relish and mustard) yesterday on our nation's 250th birthday, which means I did my patriotic duty, I suppose. It also means I came up 64 'dogs short of Joey Chestnut, Indiana native and the Michael Jordan/Babe Ruth/Tom Brady of competitive eaters.

Chestnut won his 18th Famous Nathan's Hotdog Eating Contest by shoving 66 'dogs and buns down his gullet, and they really ought to just retire the belt. He beat the field by 16, and it doesn't seem as if anyone's going to remotely challenge him in the near future.

I do wonder something, though, besides the fact only in America do we have something so bizarre and clueless as eating contests. The significant chunk of the world that's starving must regard it as such, anyway.

No, I just wonder what Joey's digestive tract must have felt like after the 66-'dog invasion. Especially because it was dryer-vent weather yesterday in New York, with a high of 93 under an equatorial sun, and a heat index of 105 or so.

So perhaps it's just my imagination, but I didn't think Joey looked all that triumphant standing there in the sun. He managed a smile when they presented him with the Nathan's belt, and even raised his fist to the crowd. But mostly he looked like a guy who was about to ralph.

On the other hand, appearances can sometimes deceive. Maybe he was just digesting.