Dear Joey Chestnut...Thanks for Your Patriotism

Above all else, thank you for restoring this nation's pride.

Something had to be done. 

Someone needed to step up to the plate and restore our nation's self-confidence, and show the rest of the world that America is still a force to be reckoned with.

By stuffing sixty-six hot dogs down your gullet (a new world's record) on America's birthday, you did exactly that. 

Bravo, Mr. Chestnut. Bravo.

True, I would've preferred to see the U.S. achieve international victory in baseball or basketball—two American sports that have seen our nation get spanked in recent years—but I'll settle for professional consumption. 

After all, is there anything more American than overeating? 

Anyone who's ever been to a Wal-Mart in the Midwest knows the answer to that question.    

Sadly, Joseph, I don't think many Americans share my enthusiasm for your achievement. Perhaps it's because they don't understand the magnitude of your victory.

Bringing the World Hot Dog Eating title back to the States, after all, is like Rocky beating Ivan Drago combined with the Miracle on Ice times a thousand.

But did your hometown of San Jose, CA, throw you a ticker-tape parade? 

No. 

Did Wheaties offer to put you on their box? 

No. 

Did the President declare your birthday a national holiday?  

No. 

Should they have? 

Absolutely.      

Because ravaging your digestive system by eating a ridiculous number of frankfurters not only takes incredible intestinal fortitude—it also demands unabashed patriotism. 

When you celebrated by wrapping yourself in the American flag, you showed our country and the rest of the world that no matter how much America loses ground politically, economically, or athletically, the red, white, and blue will never fade—and never run—in the cause of competitive hot dog eating.

U-S-A!  U-S-A!  U-S-A!

Patriotically yours,

 

Dave

 

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