|Some logos just make me want to try the place out|
I suspect that those who dwell on the darker side of human existence, for example, a person who is struck mute and immobile by the sheer madness of a mind that can feel love and imagine infinity being trapped inside a mortal shell worth about a dollar in raw materials*, may insufficiently appreciate the potential transcendence inherent in eating a truly great hotdog. With so many mediocre and outright bad hotdogs out there, boiling in ancient water, or rolling over and over and over under lights behind glass slowly turning into nitrite jerky before being served in stale flavorless buns, and apparently people willing to fork over cash to pay for them, it's always a pleasant surprise when I find a really, really good dog. When I saw that the Short Leash mobile hotdog eatery features Schreiner's Fine Sausages, I felt like I might be in business. Then, getting a closer look at the menu, I felt that the odds of being the presence of a true Hotdog of the Gods were high.
|Served on flat bread, hit me with an Igby! Quick! I'm having an existential crisis over here!|
The Igby comes with coleslaw, crumbled bleu cheese, and barbeque sauce. It looks a little something like this:
|I shall not dwell in dark spirally places, so long as I have an Igby dog near at hand|
They offer a huge selection of add-ons, and had a smooth and efficient operation. The calendar on their web site is satisfyingly informative, although I felt some hints of dark dread creeping upon me when I noticed their Facebook event calendar much less populated with their intended locations. I shall bookmark their web site on my smart phone, in case I happen to be cycling around, and feel pulled toward pondering some of the more absurd aspects of our being. I mean, consider the...oh, forget it, just give me a spicy beer hot with sauerkraut, onions, mustard and cilantro, and I shall consider the cosmic check paid in full.
The cold indifference of infinite space seems less foreboding, rendered into irrelevance even, when my mind and mouth are occupied by the snap of a fine hotdog bathed in an artful blend of flavor, and pillowed in warm flat bread. You may say it's only a hot dog. I beg to differ: come, ride with me on your bicycle to the Short Leash cart, glimpse meaning steaming in the palm of your hand, then eat it.
|But no chili dogs.Oh darkness, it stalks me even in my brightest moments.|
*Although substantially more than a dollar if the organs, fluids, and components were all sold intact rather than being rendered all the way down to water, calcium, and the rest, but I don't want to detract in any way from the main subject of this post via a digression about the theoretical medical market value of human organs and other valuable bodily components, since even present in this footnote, the subject is unfortunate at best in that respect. If anything, such a digression would only represent one more reason to despair existentially, thereby at least yielding one more good impetus to go for a bike ride with renewed vigor, and rededicated to the singular purpose of finding the current indicated location of the Short Leash mobile hotdog eatery and loading up on a spicy beer hot with jalapenos and Sriracha sauce to see if that doesn't take the edge off the contemplation of the universe just a wee bit.
This is an unsolicited review, and I received no compensation for it. Policy here.