Once my daughter was served a hot dog that had a plastic bag inside. Not inside the bun; inside the actual hot dog. She was a fussy eater, the kind that decorates the seat around her with strings of those things that aren't quite banana but aren't quite peel, and after the first bite of hot dog, she made a face and started picking at it. And then she pulled out a plastic bag.
I do not know how an entire plastic bag got inside the casing of this hot dog, but it did. She pulled out a corner of it and then some more and then some more, like a magician performing the most disgusting trick ever conceived. When the whole thing finally came out, I half expected it to be attached to a string of multi-colored handkerchiefs or for a dove to emerge from the hole and fly to the ceiling, shaking off its coating of meat by-product and drawing gasps and applause from everyone around.
I'm leading with this story, making it the first post on this new blog. If it helps, consider it a metaphor.
All the best,