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.