You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest.
Is it America? Is it tradition?
It sure is disgusting.
I tune in once again to ESPN, and there it is, center stage from Coney Island.
A thousand or more people screaming, holding signs, waving hot dog symbolism like that is our National Flag.
And there on stage is a group of food athletes wolfing down Nathan’s Hot Dogs.
It is a visual train wreck. I want to turn away, I want to turn it off, but it is so egregious, so compelling, so nauseating, I can only stare and wonder what in the world is going on.
The camera zooms into the world champion, Joey Chestnut. He is the reining king, he is the 8 time champ.
If anyone can inhale a hot dog and find a compartment inside his stomach to warehouse it, it is this pedestrian looking schmo.
He is gyrating, bouncing on his legs, up and down, perhaps coaxing his esophagus to open wider. His eyes are shut and he looks like he is giving birth through his mouth.
Liquid bun and half chewed hot dog meat are slipping out of his lips like a wretched stew of slaughter-house back wash.
I put my hand up in front of my face to shield my eyes.
This event is horrific in its disgustingness.
The camera shows other food athletes as juices percolate in their mouths, then slosh over their lips, then are projected forcefully forward like a fire house of spit.
I watch dog and bun crammed into a face that is straining, crying, not even human
And this spectacle has two announcers who know this disgusting holocaust inside and out.
There is a graphic on the bottom of the screen, that is keeping the totals for each competitor.
7 hot dogs a minute is what these food Olympians are currently digesting.
It’s a gross regurgitation of goulishness.
As this festival of foul continues, the race is heating up.
Joey Chestnut is behind. Some guy named Stonie is in the lead 5 minutes in.
Stonie with 37 hot dogs.
Chestnut with 36 hot dogs.
Nobody is worried yet. Chestnut is the equivalent of a hot dog eating Zeus. Coney Island is his Mt Olympus. whoever this Stonie guy is, he had better keep that esophagus pumping.
Pumping hot dog after hot dog after hot dog into a human mouth. It’s like watching vomiting in reverse.
Why am I watching?
Why is it on TV?
Why is it so hard to watch?
Perhaps because it is contrary to everything we have ever been taught. Be polite, be reserved, chew with your mouth closed.
“That boy is a P I G, pig,” the woman screams in Animal House.
And perhaps that is the unbelievable super human element to this.
This is Usain Bolt running the 100 yard dash. This is Michael Phelps swimming the butterfly.
These men are shoveling food byproducts into their bodies in a way that very few humans can.
I watch these men close their eyes and grimace. They shake, like they are having a convulsion, an epileptic seizure of food.
They push hot dogs into their mouths, not chewing, but inhaling the mulchy mess.
They slurp a big gulp of something liquid to help transform the meaty mess into a soft pablum like mulch.
The graphics on the screen fluctuate.
DPM – dogs per minute.
With 3 minutes to go, the leaders have dropped from 8 DPM to 6.84 DPM.
“The bun is being broken down to it’s nutricutical form,” the announcer screams.
Huh?
“It’s very very tight,” the other commentator adds.
Stonie with 51 hot dogs consume to Chestnut’s 48.
A 3 dog lead with 2:15 to go.
We could be witnessing history, the commentators bellow.
“With each bite and every swallow they are proving how much they love America,” the man chirps.
What?
There’s now just under two minutes.
“This is where Joey plays hard,” the announcer says.
1:45 to go!
“Joey is killer in the last two minutes.”
I am on the edge of my couch. Hot dogs are dripping off their faces, they are jumping and coughing and forcing the partially chewed hot dogs down their esophagus.
“these two brave men are going for it,” the announcer yells.
ONE MINUTE TO GO.
Stonie 56 – chestnut 54.
It’s a mad dash of disgust. It looks like water board torture with relish.
“This is a huge upset,” the announcer shouts sensing the end of Chestnut’s reign.
“This is Villanova over Georgetown,” he says.
WHAT?
FINALLY IT ENDS.
Both men are panting like dogs that have run a mile with no water.
Stonie is the new champion
62 to 60!
“One star on the rise. The other declining,” the men spew.
“It was a fantastic competition”
“These are the best eaters in the world.”
The third best eater is more than 20 hot dogs behind.
The men are panting, sweat and hot dog buns stuck to their faces.
Stonie can’t believe he has won.
Chestnut is leaning over the table, he looks perplexed, he looks unhappy, he looks disappointed.
The man in the straw hats grabs the microphone and shouts to the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that was ten minutes of the most wrenching competition I have ever seen.”
Joey Chestnut is interviewed first. “I had trouble. I was slow. He was eating fast I couldn’t catch up.”
Stonie says “nobody thought anyone could beat him. I trained hard for this, it’s just amazing. It’s crazy. This is sports biggest stage.
Chestnut. “I can’t take anything away from him. It gives me a reason to come back. I’ve been looking for competition now I have it. The hot dogs were cold and leathery. It’s the same for everyone. I just didn’t find my rhythm.”
Thankfully the show ends. The disgust ceases. A soccer game begins airing.
Whew.
Life’s Crazy™