
From a new posthumous collection by Shel Silverstein:
I asked for a hot dog
With everything on it
And that was my big mistake,
'Cause it came with a parrot,
A bee in a bonnet,
A wristwatch, a wrench, and a rake.
Continued here. Ben Zimmer deconstructs the poem:
The way that Silverstein plays with the meaning of "a hot dog with everything (on it)" is reminiscent of the old joke, "The Dalai Lama walks up to a hot dog vendor and says, 'Make me one with everything.'" A variant of this joke, featuring pizza instead of hot dogs, came up here a few months ago in a post by Geoff Pullum, about an Australian TV journalist trying to tell the joke to the Dalai Lama himself.

The difference between Perry and Bush, in Texas terms, is Old West versus New West. Bush was New West. His Texanness was pure theater. Think of him calling for Osama Bin Laden "dead or alive," or his Crawford ranch, where the brush-clearing never stopped. These are New West affects, slipped on as easily as a Fort Worthian slips on a pair boots from Leddy's. If Bush was tapping a vein of Texas mythology, it was that of the big-city wheeler-dealer—T. Boone Pickens, Jerry Jones—even if Bush never wheeled and dealed at their level. Rick Perry is Old West. He dreams a 19th-century dream.
