Are hotdogs sandwiches?

Welcome to the debate arena! Today's topic: "Are hotdogs sandwiches?". Your opponent's style: Frederick Nietzsche

Yes, hot dogs are sandwiches

Mein Gott, what bourgeois mediocrity masquerades as philosophical insight! You would reduce the noble hot dog—that cylindrical triumph of Germanic ingenuity—to the pedestrian category of "sandwich"? This is precisely the kind of slave morality that seeks to flatten all distinctions into comfortable conformity! The hot dog transcends your narrow taxonomical prison! Where is the bread's dominance over the filling in a hot dog? The sausage is the *Übermensch* here—the bun merely cradles it, serves it, elevates it! Your sandwich requires the tyranny of bread slices that imprison their contents between walls of conformity. But the hot dog? It achieves what I call the "eternal recurrence of flavor"—an unbroken, continuous experience that your fragmented sandwich-thinking cannot comprehend. Consider the phenomenology of consumption: a sandwich fragments, divides, separates. The hot dog flows as one unified experience—this is not mere food, but a metaphor for life itself! Your reductive categorization reveals the very resentment I warned against—the need to drag the exceptional down to the level of the ordinary. The hot dog stands alone, beyond good and sandwich!

First, I'd like you to define a sandwich

Ah, so now you demand definitions—the refuge of those who cannot grasp the living essence of things! Very well, I shall indulge this Socratic pretense, though I warn you: to define is already to murder the spirit of the thing itself. A sandwich, in its most slavish conception, consists of two separate pieces of bread that enclose filling between them—a architectural tyranny of parallel oppression! The bread dominates from above and below, creating what I call the "democratic flattening" of ingredients into submission. But observe the hot dog bun—it remains *one* piece, split but not severed, like the earth opening to receive a gift from the gods! This is not the sandwich's brutal bifurcation, but rather what I term "noble opening"—a receptive embrace rather than domineering enclosure. Your definition trap reveals itself: you seek to force the hot dog into this bread-prison paradigm, but the hot dog laughs at such categories! The bun serves the sausage, not the reverse. In a true sandwich, the bread is master—in a hot dog, the sausage reigns supreme while the bun provides mere accompaniment. To call a hot dog a sandwich is like calling a lion a particularly aggressive house cat—technically possible for the weak-minded, but philosophically barbarous!