Hog Dog Motherland


Little did I know that my European adventure would be so high on the hot dog. I landed in Frankfurt, home of the Frankfurter. I traveled to Wien (Vienna), home of the Wiener. I did not travel to Hamburg. But I could have. I’m telling you- this place is Meaty.

Why hasn’t the German department of tourism done this up? Like an ad campaign with the slogan GERMANY IS MEAT or something to that effect. They could have signs on the autobahn that say “WELCOME TO GERMANY, LAND OF MANY MEATS. And back in America, on the big screen at the baseball game, you’d see video ads with roasting sausages and beer and babes, and maybe even Frankenstein, and an ending where they zoom out over the Black Forest with the words  Visit Germany-  It’s One Giant Ballpark fading in…

In Germany, it is seriously not out of the question that I might meander upon some place called Ketzup Pfalz. And I will take a picture of the throne upon which sat the Earl of Ketzup. And I will learn, as everyone there knows except for me,  that this was THE PLACE where the Earl of Ketzup issued the proclamation that all steaks be served “‘b’neath a blanket of crushed tomahto.” I can think of no other place on Earth where this scenario could be more plausible.

Were it not for the graceful balance of infinite German bakeries (8 on every corner), this place would be called Meatyland.

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