The International Federation of Competitive Eating - yes, there’s people who probably get paid a larger salary than you just to organize eating contests - recently held a hot dog eating contest in Minnesota. The winner qualified for a national competition. This goes against my suggestion of having all the losing contestants euthanized, and the winner carried to the town square and burned like a witch.
Why do we encourage this creepy feat? I find it very hypocritical that Americans celebrate people who can easily slide hot dogs down their throat, yet condemn porn starlets who possess the very same skills. Frankly, anyone who can swallow a foot-long hot dog without chewing should be shot with silver bullets like a werewolf.
The competition - which was held in a Cub Foods parking lot to ease the cleanup of vomit - also included a hot dog sculpture contest. This is an unthinkable perversion. What kind of sculptures do you think people are going to make? We all know hot dogs look like penises, especially New York style hot dogs, which are made from actual penises.
Children at the event were encouraged to paint their faces with ketchup and mustard. Nearby was a live webcam linked to Burma so kids could inspire the cyclone victims with our overabundance of food. “Hey Burma, I’ve got enough food to rub all over my face! Bbbbbbrrrrbbbbb! Now I’m going to Shakey’s Pizza, and I’m not even hungry!”
To be fair, we are unable to send hot dogs to Burma, because the massive flatulence they instill in consumers might create a whole new cyclone.
But let’s get back to hot dog eating contests. Christians and emergency room nurses have often told gays that God didn’t create vegetables to be inserted into a person’s anus. The same is true for hot dog gorgers. God didn’t create hot dogs so you could eat 41 of them in 10 minutes and puke the half-digested remains into a perfectly good parking space. Likewise, God did not create garden hoses to rinse the remains of your victory down a sewer grate.
He also didn’t create hot dogs to be eaten plain. Ask anyone from Chicago. To eat a hot dog without at least five condiments and toppings is outright blasphemy. Such defiance of our Lord is the reason America’s housing market and economy have faltered, and the reason at least one of the two towers collapsed on September 11. The other tower was hit at the exact moment this newspaper agreed to publish my columns.
Yet the only punishment these hot dog evildoers suffer is a massive case of diarrhea that continues to plague them even today, a week after the contest ended. Is that poetic justice? It may be justice, but I imagine the experience is in no way poetic. And rightfully so.
It’s clear in today’s society that the only way to get true justice is through politicians. Sure, they won’t help with important things like stopping the war, preventing the upcoming recession, or providing basic universal healthcare that would cut our homeless population in half within a decade, but they absolutely love pointless feats like banning smoking in outdoor parks or spending four months interviewing baseball players about steroids. So they should eat up this hot dog morality issue like free Arby’s.
I was leaning toward Barack Obama this fall, but I’ll gladly promise my vote to the first candidate who bans competitive eating, or gets Congress to waste at least four months debating it. This is an important issue to me. I ride the bus to work every day, and the smell is bad enough already. Imagine the horror if these bus people learn about competitive eating. The last thing I need is an entire busload of people who sound like they’re endlessly playing a poorly-tuned tuba.
Barack, Hillary, John: When I wake up at 3am terrified of competitive eating champion Takeru Kobayashi, who do I want answering the phone? I open the floor to you. Earn my vote.