First off, thank you to everyone who offered support while the Shepkids' mom was in the hospital. Your kindness reminded me that sometimes, even when the road looks crooked, the good still shows up. Maybe today’s quote isn't just wishful thinking…
…maybe it’s a real possibility.
Today is National Ketchup Day. Let’s talk ketchup or rather, not talk ketchup... at least when it comes to a Chicago hotdog.
I'm old school.
I like a baseball game on the radio better than one on TV.
I tear up during the National Anthem, no matter where I am.
I still make the sign of the cross when an ambulance rolls past with its lights on.
And I believe with every fiber of my Vienna beef loving ass that a real Chicago hot dog does NOT need ketchup.
The “no ketchup” rule isn’t made up to jag tourists from Omaha or Oklahoma City. It is Chicago history that goes back over a hundred years ago and the Upton Sinclair era. Some vendors used ketchup to cover up the lousy meat in their hotdog. The vendors with the better product made a point that they had a hotdog that didn’t need ketchup to mask the lips and asshole taste. A proper hotdog didn’t need a ketchup disguise. That tradition stuck, and for good reason. They let the wiener speak for itself.
Mustard, onions, relish, sport peppers, tomatoes, pickle spear, celery salt. That isn’t a toppings list, that’s a declaration of integrity.
So sure, I’ll dip my French fries in ketchup. I might even squirt a little on a cheeseburger now and then….
…. But never on my hot dog?
Time to get Thursday going... Let's muster up the strength and feel astonished today.
