Having just turned seventy, I decided that I needed a new experience, an exciting adventure, something that I had never, ever done before in my entire life.
I ate a corn dog.
As gastronomic experiences go, I would rank this one somewhere between crow and hospital grub. I suppose the good news is that I neither puked nor got diarrhea. Let me say that I am not generally a queasy eater. I eat liver. I've eaten oysters. I've eaten sushi, turtle, rattlesnake, and gefilte fish. But I will never again eat a corn dog.
From this day forward, I consume my hot dogs straight, on a bun with mustard, relish, maybe some sauerkraut or chopped onion, preferably Hebrew Nat'l or Nathans.
Let the heathens at the county and state fairs eat all the corn dogs they want. If I ever go to another such shindig, I'll stick to sausage piled high with peppers & onions and swimming in grease.