What is the world's best hot dog?

I wonder about this question. I love a good hot dog. Heck, I'll even eat a bad one if there's something interesting about it, say a particularly vile shade of red or strange wrinkles adorning its flanks.

I intend to try to come closer to the answer next Saturday night, at a belated birthday party that will feature four or so of the top contenders. If you have a nominee, let me know. I'll post the consensus, as well as my own opinion, after the party.

Entries may be short for a while, unless the mood to expound hits me or I'm really stalling, because I'm cooking on Overthrowing Heaven and really digging it, I'm behind on reviewing the galleys for Slanted Jack, I have an April 14 deadline for a secret project (no, really, I can't talk about it), the two anthologies await my attention, I owe Dave and Toni each some work, and, oh yeah, I have a sixty- or seventy-hour-a-week full-time job as a CEO--one who has no assistant and who is still sick. I'm not whining, but I am busy--which is much better, I suppose, than not having all these opportunities.

Time to hunker down.