There was a man who lived by the side of the road and sold hot dogs.
He was hard of hearing so he had no radio.
He had trouble with his eyes so he read no newspapers.
But he sold good hot dogs.
He put up signs on the highway telling how good they were.
He stood on the side of the road and cried; “buy a hot dog, mister?
And people bought.
He increased his meat and bun orders.
He bought a bigger stove to take care of his trade.
He finally got his son home from college to help him out.
But then something happened.
His son said, “Father, haven’t you been listening to the radio?
Haven’t you been reading the newspapers?
There’s a big depression.
The European situation is terrible.
The domestic situation is worse.”
Where upon the father thought, “well, my son’s been to college, he reads the papers and he listens to the radio, and he ought to know.”
So the father cut down on his meat and bun orders, took down his advertising signs, and no longer bothered to stand out on the highway to sell his hot dogs.
And his hot dog sales fell almost overnight.
“You’re right, son” the father said to the boy.
“We certainly are in the middle of a great depression.”
Hat Tip (HT) to Neil Mattson for the link.
Dr. Charlie Hall says
Brian:This story is commonly cited on the Internet and I have yet to find one that includes a citation to an original author.
lloyd traven says
So, hot dogs prevent depression? All this time, I thought it was Prozac. I’m switching to Hebrew National, brown mustard, please. Great parable, Charlie, you just get better and better. BTW, we’re looking to have a VERY good spring–we’re yelling as loud as we can from the side of the road.