Descartes once weathered an existential crisis. He boiled his very existence down to the simple phrase, “I think, therefore I am.” When the world around you is crumbling and the very founding principles you live your life on are no more, how can you be sure of anything? Descartes’s answer: “Well, at least I exist, I guess… That’s worth something, right?” While philosophers have scraped together the morsels and scraps of life, pondered the greatness and depravities of man, and asked questions like what if life as we know it is just shadows bouncing on a cave wall, none have been brave or foolhardy enough to tackle this one question. A question so simple and yet so complex. A question that throws existence itself into a dryer on high and leaves you left with nothing but missing socks and a clogged lint trap. A question that will drive a man mad….
Is A Hotdog A Sandwich?
No. Right? I mean, obviously. A hotdog is a hotdog. It’s a sleeve of mystery meat shoved on a bun that represents a celebration of life and freedom if grilled on the 4th of July or the depths of depression itself if eaten on a slice of bread because you’re out of buns while alone mindlessly flipping through Netflix at 9:37 on a Saturday night. The two ends of the hotdog spectrum. One, that delicious first bite, the other, that weird bite at the end that’s just bread and a little bit of ketchup. A hotdog is a hotdog. Plain and simple (unless you’re in Chicago, where hotdogs are neither plain nor simple).
The sweatpants of the hotdog world
And a sandwich is a sandwich. It’s meat and cheese sandwiched between two slices of bread. The heart of the sandwich is in the sandwiching of the meat and the cheese. Without the sandwiching, do you really even have a sandwich? But, a panini is meat and cheese sandwiched between two pieces of bread. Actually a panini is a pressed sandwiched, an extra sandwiched sandwich. It’s more sandwich than a sandwich could ever hope to be. And, is a panini a sandwich? It’s the überwich. If Superman were a sandwich, he’d be a panini. But you’d think Superman would be a hotdog as both represent truth, justice, and the American way. Both also have a secret identity and come from places unknown.
The hero we all deserve
So, a panini’s a sandwich. The kind of sandwich that gets to work early and stays late and makes everyone else in the company look bad. The panini’s the reason turkey on rye didn’t get that promotion and bologna only got a 2% raise. Freakin paninis, man… Some people have even had the audacity to try and class up the bottom feeder of the sandwich world and She’s All That the grilled cheese sandwich up to prom queen by combining it with the Freddie Prinze Jr. that is the panini. Proving that the sandwich doesn’t even require meat to be able to sandwich. You can sandwich vegetarian style. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich goes a step further and bucks the meat and cheese thing all together, swapping them out for pulverized peanuts and some sort of fruit that really only exists to make people wonder what the hell is the difference between jam, jelly, preserves, and marmalade anyways? A sandwich doesn’t even need meat or cheese to be a sandwich. Don’t believe me? I’ve got three words for you: ice cream sandwich. I win.
The Frozen Sandwich. Made with a sticky crust so you can never really Let It Go.
So a sandwich can exist agnostic of its contents. Anything sandwiched is a sandwich, wether it’s nuts and fruit (PB&J is obviously just a paleo friendly sandwich), or a tube of mystery meat (bologna has entered the chat). But the sandwiching still prevails.
That is until, up from the depths rises the submarine sandwich. Known affectionately by many names depending on where you live, the sub, the hero, the hoagie, or, for the Floridians, the Pub-sub. It’s a split roll with meat and cheese shoved inside of it. Some sandwiching still occurs, but just like in the Robin Thicke song about unwanted sexual advances that should be way more ashamed of itself than “Baby It’s Cold Outside” because it came out in 2013, the lines have become blurred as to the extent of the sandwiching that has to take place. No longer do you need two distinct slices of bread. You simply need one piece of bread that’s been King Solomoned right down the middle and filled with whatever meat and veggies that have been sitting out for 6 hours by a college dropout who technically proved his parents wrong because he actually is an artist, even if it’s just sandwich artist.
Obviously made by sandwich Picasso
A split roll with meat shoved in the middle? Yup, that’s a hotdog. And also probably a sex euphemism… A hot dog is a sandwich. As is bratwurst, sausage, french dip, hamburgers, Filet-O-Fish, the McRib, a Big Mac is just a sandwich with another sandwich inside of it, even a taco is a sandwich, right? A slice of flour (bread) with meat and cheese inside? Yup. Sandwich. And what’s a quesadilla but Mexican grilled cheese? The Oreo? Tiny sandwiches. Even if you twist the Oreo in half and lick out the filling like some kind of animal, still a sandwich, because…
A sandwich doesn’t even need to be sandwiched!
The old school record scratch. Which is also kind of old school.
Enter the open-faced sandwich. Enter dramatically. Like in an old western saloon where the swinging doors are slammed open and the entire bar falls silent and the piano player stops ragtiming. Would you deny the sandwichhood of the open-faced sandwich? The open-faced sandwich is part of the sandwich family. It’s not even a second cousin in the sandwich family where people in West Virginia could argue “I mean, are they really related?” It’s in the direct lineage of the sandwich. Sandwich royalty is in its blood. It’s the Duke of Cornwall of sandwiches. The open-faced sandwich is a sandwich, its toppings stacked on its head like a crown.
Prince Charles? The open-faced king of England
Then what is pizza except for an open-faced, baked, Italian-style sandwich? Avocado toast? Sandwich. Pancakes? Open-faced PB&J replaced with syrup and butter. Lasagna? Sandwich. Easy. Meaning, spaghetti? Open-faced lasagna. Sandwich. Macaroni & Cheese? Inverted, open-faced grilled cheese sandwich. Apple pie? Sandwich. Burrito? Sandwich.
Golden Corral? All-You-Cn-Eat Build-Your-Own Sandwich Bar
But it gets deeper. Ever order a protein style burger from In-N-Out? Sandwich with lettuce instead of bread. You don’t even need bread! Meaning salad? Open-faced protein style sandwich. Chicken and rice? Open-faced rice sandwich. Beans and rice? Vegetarian open-faced rice sandwich. Or what about the KFC Double Down sandwich? A meat-sandwiched sandwich. The Luther Burger? Donut-sandwiched sandwich. Chicken nuggets? Oh, you mean chicken encased in deep fried bread? Sandwich. Omelet? Egg-sandwiched sandwich. Boiled egg? Egg white-sandwiched egg yolk. Sandwich. It’s all sandwiches! Earth? Magma and iron sandwich. Atoms? Electron sandwiches. God? Sounds like a Father, Son, and Holy Spirit sandwich. Life as we know it? A blip in time sandwiched on both ends by the dark unknown.
A hot dog is a sandwich.
We are sandwich.
Earthquakes & Alligators 