Condimentalism 2001

"If relish were diamonds, if ketchup didn't blind us."

Ladies and gentlemen, this time we've really done it. The mustard is leaking from our ears, softening the pulsing rhythm of locomotive persistence. Can we even see through all the steam towards a fuller tomorrow. My friends, it's time we do. It's time indeed to eat up the hot dogs, eat up the buns, cover them with condiment, and take them from the sidewalk with excessive kraut.

This is a sidewalk hopeful of bounty, breadth, and democracy. this new sidewalk believes entirely in its own history, soon procuring the endless fiction of satisfaction. Soon enough, Ladies and Gentlemen, there will be plenty of understanding, don't worry. There is no need for shifty compromise or convincing this time.

Don't give up on portability or what is delicious, no. Don't give up on the smoky, ideal aesthetic of a doctored up beginning. Don't give up until the very last bite asserts a new definition of taste in the paradigm of concession's piquancy. Mouths, rise up and water.