As a child, I was swept up by the Oscar Meyer PR machine. I knew the words to the hot dog song, singing it in the bathtub and in bed when I couldnt sleep. I hummed it in my mind while Ms. Cole droned about math equations. And oh how I loved those tubular delights, filled with mysterious product that always had perfect consistency. And then there was the day when I saw the Wienermobile slowly come down the street at the Nevada Day... Read more