It’s our first Hot Dog Appreciation Day! This is your day, our dear and noble fans. The day we honor the sacrifices you make (several dollars a month) in honor of a noble cause (keeping us in karate mats; we go through so many!). The day we showcase the contributions you make to greater Hot Doggery. You majestic motherfuckers can be informative, hilarious, and you know what? Downright erotic. You knew what you were doing when you put on that mustache. And that T-shirt that said “Mustache Rides 50 Cents.” And then that little fanny pack full of quarters so you could make proper change. Don’t pretend like you got dressed in the dark, you foxy little sex-carnies.
Onward, to you!
You guys nagged and nagged us to start a sports channel, and what’s the first thing you do when we cave?
You talk about Blaseball, the supernatural nerd version of fantasy baseball — which was already for nerds too nerdy for baseball! You dorks are the best.
Brockway needed some help plugging a book because he forgot people don’t read those anymore. Here was your answer:
It didn’t help sell any books, but watch for our new existential horror porn sister site: Thus Came ZaraTHRUSTra.
The Nerding Day about Ultimate Tag inspired our new favorite superhero:
While the Fucking Day on 101 Ways to Get and Keep His Attention led to the sexiest kind of blasphemy: The animal-fucking kind.
The Hot Dog Tipline:
We ran one article about the most unsettling Wish products back when the site first started, and you’ve been sending them to us ever since. Please don’t stop. We’re not planning on using them for anything nefarious, we just like them. We’re not buying all of them and then plugging them into one another, slowly building a giant Wish tower to pierce the heavens so we can kill God. We just think they’re neat.
Matthew Harris has done it. He’s cracked the code:
Congratulations, Matthew! Please stay where you are and prepare for obliteration. Your knowledge will be harvested and fed back into the Everything Worm, where it will once more be digested, scrambled, and shat out into pop culture until some unlucky soul pieces it together again.
Anthony read Karate for Snakes and also solved a minor mystery of the universe:
But he won’t be destroyed. He’ll just never watch Hard Target the same way again. That’s punishment enough.
Our commenters are already nailing down next year’s community-wide event:
And some of these eagle-eyed readers have sussed out the site’s lesser secrets, too:
No, not that we simp for the moon — that’s no secret — SlappyMeats figured out that sometimes our days bleed together, almost like they’re an arbitrary construct. A metaphorical bun only here to hold hot sloppy comedy.
Some say Seanbaby’s 3,000 word epic about assfucking was too much. But we say if we can reach one soul — just one lost soul out there in the cold and windy tundra looking for guidance — then this was all worth it.
It’s been a highly competitive few weeks here on the Hot Dog, and in a sense, we’re all winners because you folks have come together to make a magical space on the internet where comedy can thrive, free of sketchy ad networks and SEO ferrets. But in another, even realer sense, there is an actual winner and it’s Jakesy35 for teaching us that anything can masturbate, even — especially — the metaphorical absence of humanity.
Congratulations, Jakesy35! That means you get to hold onto this picture of Prince for the next two weeks. God help you if you lose it, it’s the greatest art mankind has ever produced:
You folks are, as always, the best. And if anybody ever questions that, you come tell us. One of us will crouch down behind their knees while the other pushes them and says something cool like “have a nice FALL,” or “welcome to GROUNDTOWN, where our chief import is YOUR BUTT.”
2 replies on “Hot Dog Appreciation Day: Jerkin’ the Void”
I thought you guys had reached the zenith of things. then you printed this Prince photo without explanation or context. It is literally the most glorious thing I have ever seen and I don’t ever want to know why it was taken or what astral plane the photographer moved to afterwards.
And you never will. That is a promise.