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This weekend Madison Park was taken over by legions of barbecue lovers. They tend to be a lot like you or me but of slightly larger proportions and more catholic taste. It was the annual Big Apple BBQ—and a careful observer had ample chance to note, first hand, the slow descent along the Glasgow Coma Scale and the yearning distended beauty of a tie dye shirt stretched to the limits of its fiber by an ample gut. The park was ringed with people madly stuffing their mouths with meat. There was a lost dead head freaking out and an old cougar without a blouse. We sent Josh, because he is poor on the inside, and Laurel Ptak, the photographer behind the extremely edifying Connecticut Ivy Cup travelogue, to make you feel good about being a vegetarian.