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NEW YORK, NY – Ralph Coulter (No relation to Ann Coulter) is geared up for another Thanksgiving in the trenches. From his home in Queens, Coulter runs a hot dog stand on Manhattan island. After years of struggle he earned his spot on Times Square, finally paying off enough NYPD officers and frustrating “Permits Directors” to sneak in unmolested each morning to vend his fiery franks.

 

Coulter wields his weiners just north of the lawsuit-prone superhero knockoffs on the corner of 43rd near Bubba Gump Shrimp. Like a town crier, he calls down his patrons and, like clockwork on the anniversary of his arrival in the heart of Manhattan, they come in droves from miles around to see him.

 

Coulter himself is flabbergasted by the spectacle of adulation. “Yeah, there’s people and families, just all the way around both blocks! They all have their extended families with them too.”

 

“They have this great thing they always tell me: ‘I just want one, I’m saving my appetite for later’ I know that’s them telling me they’ll be back.”

 

Yes, it’s true people congregate in the center of New York once a year to celebrate a feast in late November, and Mr. Coulter of “Don’t Tread on My Brats” Hot Dog Stand knows the festivities are for him.

 

“I don’t really understand the huge balloons, I was always scared of clowns as a child, but I guess it’s them showing me that I don’t need to be afraid anymore. Balloons can be all sorts of shapes, like Snoopy, Spongebob, or Bugs Bunny, not just something you choke on while your dad yells at the TV during your birthday party.”

 

Every Thanksgiving the people come back and sing songs in the chilly New York air down Madison Avenue and through Times Square, probably to get a bite of Ralph Coulter’s hand and home aged links.

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