Now, Dr. Bob was well aware of what went into the traditional, old Oscar Meyer dog, and was also aware of the old maxim commonly attributed to Otto von Bismark: 

To retain respect for sausages and laws, one must not watch them in the making.

He ate them regardless. Why? Because he liked them, and in recognition of the... doubtful origins of what went into them, he had his own name for this classical American staple, one which I adopted and still use: He called them "death missiles."

CNN's Brandon Riggs, it turns out, is less enamored of this great American traditional feast:

In the vast smorgasbord of festive foods, hot dogs have never done it for me. I’m not a vegetarian or a picky eater, and I’m not on some nitrates-free health kick. I just don’t care for them. 

During peak hot dog season, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, Americans consume an estimated 7 billion hot dogs. That makes me a statistical outlier at best, and at worst, maybe a traitor. Who doesn’t like hot dogs? It’s almost un-American, like disliking football or Dolly Parton. 

I pass no judgment on hot dog lovers, and I understand the appeal. Hot dogs are cheap, easy to cook, portable and endlessly customizable. They’re the perfect outdoor food accessory: Grab a hot dog in one hand, and you still have another hand free for a cold beverage of your choice.

I pass no judgment on Mr. Riggs passing no judgment; like a true advocate for individual liberty, I perforce support his preference to eat what he likes and pass on what he doesn't, although I might suggest he try upgrading his dog; I find the best of that genre to be Hebrew National beef hot dogs, as they are filling and delicious. But he's correct on the great old hot dog being an American holiday staple. In my Northeast Iowa youth, I ingested many a "death missile," sometimes cooked on a grill, more often impaled on a green stick and cooked over a campfire that may have ranged from a smudge to an inferno, with predictable results on the dog - which I always ate regardless.

See Related: Schadenfreude - Real Meat Turns Out to Be Healthier Than Fake 

Why Pickles on a Burger Are the American Dream

Hot dogs are, of course, only one of many traditional American summer foods. 

Personally, I will always opt for a burger over a dog. Our favorite local eating spot does them especially well; a half-pound, hand-shaped burger, which I generally opt to have topped with cheese, bacon, onions, and sometimes a fried egg. A burger, like a dog, can generally be held with one hand, keeping the other available to hold one's beer. And burgers are endlessly able to be accessorized. Bacon seems an obvious necessity, as does cheese (I prefer pepper jack) but it's really up to the consumer.

Also back in my Northeastern Iowa youth, I was introduced to some other traditional summer foods; at least, traditional to that area. 

A fishing buddy of mine had an odd one. When fishing the trout streams in the area, we caught a lot of trout and some smallmouth bass, both of which were pretty good eating. We also caught a lot of carp, which we tossed into the cornfields. But when this one friend of mine caught carp, he kept them, smoked them, and always insisted we try the results, which tasted like a cross between badger musk and death. I never understood his fondness for smoked carp; I couldn't even stand the smell. Granted, it may have been his preparation at fault.

We also lived a few miles away from the small college town of Decorah, which was a largely Norwegian community, which celebrated Nordic Fest every summer. While making the rounds of the beer tents one day, I was introduced to lutefisk - dried fish, cured in lye. When the person who was urging me to try it (a typically Nordic gal of about 20, with blonde hair and big blue eyes) offered me a sample, I first reacted with the traditional Decorah "Uff da!" But it really wasn't bad; I won't try to describe the flavor, because I can't, but if you've ever eaten pickled fish, you have the general idea.

It was also at Nordic Fest that I first made my acquaintance with bratwurst, which was served at most of the food tents despite being German, not Norwegian, they are like a hot dog taken up a notch; I still feed on them regularly today.

The main thing, I suppose, is to eat what you like. America is great in many ways, but not least of them is the ease with which our nation takes the best from the waves of people who have come here and improves on it. Traditional American foods, like hot dogs, cheeseburgers, and so on, are perfect examples of this, and everyone should feel free to eat what and how they please, without facing any judgment from their fellows.

Unless you put pineapple on pizza. That's just beyond the pale.

This seems appropriate.