THROW ANOTHER CORNDOG ON THE BARBIE

Nothing says pride in America and the dignity of the U.S. president quite like illiterate yobbos enjoying cage fights on the South Lawn. Next to a giant ballroom hole. Thousands of people are expected to be there, celebrating Donald Trumps birthday, Flag Day, and 250 years.
It will be televised live. There will be popcorn.

It will be the most seen sporting event in history, or at least this year. Pretty much required watching, on screen in every sports bar in Texas, Florida, and all over the Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and the Carolinas. Because it represents The Flower of Southern Womanhood, Daisy Duke, Old Fashioned Values, Jesus, and The Triumph Over Foreigners.
It's what all those repressed Cuban refugees came here for.

Buttered popcorn. Pom poms. And bunting.
Lots of red, white, and blue.


However, like a stereotypical Communist Muslim, I may be watching soccer on that day, the Netherlands versus Japan. Or Germany and Curaçao. Both games will be played in Texas.
So I might enjoy a corndog and some chicken-fried bacon, garnished with anchovies and pickled Jalapeños, during the match. Gets you into the Texas spirit, podner, boy howdy.

Nothing is more American AND Texan than a corndog. It is the paradigm of fine dining and the best representative of New World cuisine, representing the happy marriage of native foods (corn), yankee inginuity, and Texan farming traditions (mad cow).
It's both culinarily adventurous and delicious!
All in one festive package.

That plus a plate of grits and some iced sweet tea, and you've got yourself a feast that John Wayne himself would be proud of. Yeehaw!

The Gipper would approve.
Flag Day.



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