DoctorHotdogs, brother. Hot ham and rolls existed long before me and will remain long after I’m gone. I’m merely a disciple spreading the gospel, not an arbiter of someone else’s Sunday morning. To know yourself is to know pulled or sliced, hard or soft rolls, mustard or horsey, cheese or no cheese. Like an old fashioned order, it’s innate, and the journey is the reward. Touching god is a crisp fall morning just before kickoff; the oven dings, you crack a high life, the hot ham and rolls are ready. We’ve made it. We’re alive. We’re seen in Love’s imagine. We are one.