On July 4, tens of thousands of people will cram the corner of Surf and Stillwell avenues in Coney Island to witness grown men and women devour frankfurters in Nathan's Famous July 4 International Hot Dog Eating Contest. In many ways, it is our country’s most barbaric spectacle.

The contest is reminiscent of a deleted scene from Game of Thrones, only with more PETA protesters and fewer dwarfs.

Perhaps I exaggerate the savage nature of the event because of sour grapes. The truth is that (and I really believe this in my plaque-infested heart) two decades ago, it’d be me — not Takeru Kobayashi, not Joey Chestnut — who could have headlined this celebration.