There are hot dogs I remember, some are fried, and some are boiled, some are bitter, not with cheddar.

Some are bruised your eyes when wrapped in foil, all the hot dogs have their moments,

like pigs in a wrap with sauerkraut. I know I'll often stop and dream about them.

In my life, I love them all. In my life, I love them all.

You're hungry, you're confused, your face is streaked with dry tears.

You don't even remember when you started crying.

For one thing, I have no shame before another mortal. All my shame is between myself and cry.

I never dropped my eyes to another human being.

Notice me, Senpai. Notice me.

Ladies and gentlemen, let us welcome Washington's fearless political satirist,

the court jester, on the poop deck of the ship of state.

All right, hello. Good morning and welcome everyone to a Wednesday edition of TBTL,

the show that just might be too beautiful to live.

It's an audio files nightmare.

My name is Luke Burbank, I'm your host.

Come into you from the Nest Broadcast Center, high in the sky above Portland, Oregon,

where I'm happy to report.

I haven't dropped any Roomba parts off of the balcony of my apartment yet today.

Slightly unhappy to report that there's actually a chance of rain here in Portland.

I've been complaining, of course, about the heat.

It's been very warm and very uncomfortable here in Portland,

but now the heat's gone for one day and it's raining, and I'm like,

...