CD: Beastie Boys, "Licensed To Ill"

I have an aversion to pork for disgestive reasons. It just doesn't dissipate correctly or something; if I were an expert in those kinds of matters I could explain in medical terms the more disgusting aspects of the situation while still sounding somewhat dignified. Nevertheless, I still find myself dealing with hot dogs on a regular basis. My intention is never to just "go get a hot dog" because I am always looking for better fare. There it sits in the fridge, however, taunting me. Say I am about to make some soup, or reheat a casserole. Hey, I can eat a hot dog while I wait? Then, somehow I must finished the package I opened. Nuts...by the end of the night I've had four or five of the things and my stomach is re-enacting that ship-on-stormy-seas scene from the Pepto-Bismol commercial. What are these things made of, anyway?

Studio mic: "C'mon, Dave, gimme a break."
David Lee Roth: "One break, comin' up!"