Sunday, August 05, 2007

Hindu's: The Final Re-Incarnation of the Nazi's?

Corndog Trailer arrived in grand fashion at the Haye's, Kansas Cultural Arts Center for our most recent gig. By "grand fashion" I am refering to the massive backfire our Pinto cut loose with as we pulled into the parking lot, sending a couple of WWII vets into flashback to D-Day mode. I can't help but find octegenarians yelling "Incoming" and creeping through bushes amusing, but Z, bless her heart, ran over to help calm them down. Damn, girls got a shake that measures on the Richter scale. I filmed the old man after Zanna got him an ice-cream to sooth him.

We were in Hayes due to an invitation to sling corndogs at the Hindu Indian National Dialogue Of Native Traditions. India Indians. Dots, not feathers.

Things started out roughly, due to a translation problem with the word "corndog". We were proudly explaining that we use only the highest quality all beef franks, when the coalition head Padma Brah flipped. "Holy Vishnu, how can dogs of corn be made of beef, how is this possible!" He then lapsed into Hindu-speak, gibbering away. My mind drifted off to thoughts of Slurpee's. When I snapped back to reality, I inferred that both dog and corn were acceptable but beef was not. Padma Brah went on to explain "While researching places in the States United to hold our convention, we chose Kansas specifically because it is home to the delicious Rhode Island Red and had no real beef industry such as Louisiana and Hawaii are known for."

Riiiiiggghhhhht. I explained we had plenty of non-beef specialitys we could cook for the convention tomorrow. Later that night, sitting on the hood of the Pinto with some 40's of Old E, laughing hysterically we learned what Hindu's and H.I.N.D.O.N.T.s eat, by borrowing a bit of wi-fi from the nearby Prairie-Foof Hotel (where a Dalton Gang Died For Your Sins convention was in full swing.) Bet they like corndogs.

Well, the next day, Z and I trotted out the revised menu. Buffalo wings, corn on the cob, deep-fried macaroni and cheese bits, and.....were shocked as we carried our trays in to the Cultural Arts Center. The place was covered in swastikas, and the Indians were all wearing the swastika on their colorful clothes. Z and I pride ourselves on being sensitive to other cultures and open-minded, but....the international symbol of evil? Hindu's believe in reincarnation...could these people believe they are the final resting place of the souls of Hitler and Goebles? I decided to find out, tactfully.

When the people came up for their food, I would say "Schiece", which I think means hello in German. No reaction. Z put a white pillow case on her head for a while as she served, nothing but odd looks. When they paid us as they were leaving, I smoothly slipped into the conversation "So do you guys have a Jew and Gay problem in Bollywood?" Padma Brah advised us to seek help, and left, giving us our own swastika's on the way out.

Seemed like nice folks for a bunch of racist sociopaths.

Can't wait to tell Amy from Wak-a-Mole and Jimmy about this. Well, on to NASCAR, to serve corndogs and deep-fried snickers to throngs of drunken fans. Our people.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

Sam Jackson, Always the Humanitarien...or however the fuck that is spelled

Corndog Season is here!!!

Z and I are busy like rabbits on a mix of Viagra (tm) and meth (not tm) now that NASCAR, summer, carnivals and general fun-ness are available due to the warm temps. So this is gonna be short, people. Make hay, when the sun is shining.

What I would like to say is a basic add for our Corndog business. Seeing as Z and I both have a bit o' the Wop in us, genetically, we decided to combine our sauces and throw it on some pasta. In light of S. Jacksons epic film, "Snakes on a Plane", we chose a relevant name:

"Spaghetti: with MUTHA-FUCKIN' meatballs on a MUTHA-FUCKIN' plate"

Still working on a kid friendly sign, mutha-fucka's.

Peace and shit.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

The Pupa Stage

I will come right out and say it's pretty fucking ironic that a brand new post come out on the first day of summer when Corndog Season will become full-speed ahead. It's also ironic that I'd rather sit here and write a post for the first time in ages instead of helping Helga put on her fully body hairnet.

T and I have a lot to update you all on...but I have to go make batter and the situation at hand is this: You may or may not remember the situation last year with Helga and Hannoush's death. (read here and here to familiarize yourself) . After she left Moosetaint for Auchwitz, she thought life would be better and she could get away from the tragedy. But as we know, no matter where you go, there you are and things didn't go well. So Helga came back to the town and the freaks that love her (in my case I tolerate her since she has a mad crush on T) and that's Moosetaint.

She needed a gig. Moosetaint refuses to tout a bearded lady anymore because it's synonymous with "the incident". Of course, we pitited her and hired her to help out with the stand.

It's been 3 weeks and we have hadto give back over 60% of what we've taken in because of "hair in the batter". I don't know why I put that in quotes, but there it is. Now, Hannoush's brothers are fucking PISSED she is back, let alone the fact that we hired her and it's only made the war between the Granny's and the Bin Ladins worse. So bad that those fucking camel jockey's called Health and Human Services on us. And the FDA. And the CDC.

First let me tell you...I have a shitty fucking filing system. I couldn't find readily find ANY of the paperwork I had to produce for these fucks. It took me and T an entire day to sift through the Pinto and we finally found everything stuffed in an an old G.I. Joe Thermos wedged under the driver's seat. Okay, so we get the HHS and the FDA off our jocks AFTER we proved that have stayed up-t0-date on all our shit. All we had to do is promise that we'd make a full body hairnet for Helga. Which, essentially is a pair of crotchless stockings from Fredrick's of Hollywood sewn onto mosquito netting. Have I mentiond I can't sew? So, I just velcroed the mosquito netting to the waist of the stockings. I don't give a rat's fuck...technically...we're in compliance.

Oh yea, and if you are wondering why crotchless stockings are's because ironically, the bearded lady shaves her twat. I don't know. I've never understood that since the night of the incident.

Okay, so we get that shit out of the way and now we have to deal with Helga's "emotional issues". Because some kids surrounded her when she went to use the Porta-Potty and when she came out ensconced in her fully body hair net, they asked her if she was in the Pupa stage and would she eventually turn into something beautiful.

We can't fucking win. anyway..gotta go. That batter aint' gonna bat itself.

FDA link:

Food safety: