I Wish I Were an Inconceivable Vittles Wiener
It was another successful Fourth of July for competitive eaters, a.k.a ‘pie hole pros’, thanks to the annual Nathan’s Famous International Hot Dog Eating Contest at Coney Island. The 2024 contest was like nearly every edition before it, complete with gut-ripping, belch-inducing volumes of wieners and buns being scarfed at unimaginable speeds.
About the only thing missing from the 2024 event was the reigning world champion: one Joey Chestnut. Apparently, Mr. Chestnut had upset the Nathan’s persons after signing a sponsorship deal with a company that makes fake hot dogs out of water and plants. As per my normal modus operandi, I have questions.
What is a fake hot dog, really?
I consulted the internet to ascertain exactly what goes into a ‘beef hot dog’ that contains absolutely no bovine-based ingredients whatsoever. Without revealing the actual company with whom Mr. Chestnut agreed to do business – though the name is surprisingly similar to Inconceivable Vittles – I can tell you that the most voluminous ingredient in said hot dogs is water. I swear I’m not making it up.
Water is the first ingredient on the list. It is followed by wheat gluten, sunflower oil, and coconut oil. So you’re essentially eating a mouthful of waterlogged wheat protein held together by the plant equivalent of petroleum. Y-u-u-u-m-m-y!
Why would anyone eat a fake hot dog?
I don’t know. Then again, I can find no reasonable explanation for turkey bacon, boneless wings, the Yugo, or CNN. People are people. I guess the bigwigs over at Inconceivable Vittles believe there are enough food ingesters who don’t know the meaning of the word ‘beef’ to whom they can sell their gastronomic counterfeits.
Wouldn’t ‘Gastronomic Counterfeits’ be an awesome name for a Food Network show?
Why, yes. Yes it would.
Why would someone enter a hot dog eating contest?
Why a person would voluntarily shove dozens of hot dogs, with buns, down his/her/its gullet, violating everything mom ever said at the dinner table by the way, escapes me. Not only that, but think of all of the starving children in Africa mom used to pull out of the bag to get us to eat our vegetables. I’m sure at least 48 of them would love to try a hot dog, just once.
But alas, competitive eating goes against every principle of mom’s dining decorum. Competitor’s eat without bothering to chew. They wolf their food down like they haven’t eaten in a week. They make disgusting noises at the table. And the worst of them – this is absolutely heinous by the way – put both elbows firmly on the table as they scarf wieners for the win.
Is competitive eating a sport?
The final question on my list is the source of so much controversy among athletic-type persons: is competitive eating a sport? The answer: it depends on your perspective.
I am guessing that professional pugilists (that would be boxers to all you fake hot dog eaters) would say ‘no’. Likewise for footballers, baseballers, basketballers, and participants of just about every other activity for which success is defined by meeting some sort of objective via the movement of a potentially deadly projectile.
However, there are some other activities whose participants would undoubtedly agree that competitive eating is a sport. Said activities include, but are not limited to, rhythmic gymnastics, poker, cup stacking, spelling and – I swear I am not making this up either – full-contact medieval combat.
There’s Always 2025, Joey
I don’t know about you, but all of this talk about fake hot dogs and people dressed up like knights so they can hit each other with clubs and swords has worn me out. I need a nap. I’m sorry Joey Chestnut got the heave-ho from Nathan’s this year. But there’s always 2025.
