Column: A hick’s perspective of all that’s available at the county fair

Published 12:00 am Wednesday, August 10, 2005

It’s fair weather.

Sometimes we weather the fair.

Fairs hit the area when the weather is either hot or rainy &045; either way it’s typically humid.

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It was so humid at the fair this year that tattoos were running.

I have the great pleasure of working at a number of fairs.

I call it work. Others call it telling stories.

I’m just another hick at the fair.

A rube surrounded by people gathered to ride a Tilt-a-Whirl.

A friend told me that the fairs aren’t what they used to be.

I told him that’s probably because

we aren’t what we used to be.

Odd things happen at the fair.

It’s part of the charm of a fair.

Here are a few observations.

I watched a man eating a fish sandwich while looking at the live fish. I’m guessing he got himself a roast beef sandwich before he checked out the cow barn.

I stepped into something disgusting. It was one of those political ads.

I watched a fellow produce some chainsaw sculpture. He made a bear and an eagle. There is a school in northern Wisconsin that will teach students how to become chainsaw artists. After watching and listening to this guy create pieces of art from a chunk of a tree, I’ve decided to confine my artistic endeavors to the Etch-a-Sketch.

I’d like to see a chainsaw artist do some butter sculptures.

I took some toast down to the butter sculptures and looked sadly at the unbuttered toast while I drooled slightly.

The butter sculptures are cool. I’m surprised that no one has done any cow pie sculptures.

I looked at vegetables of mammoth proportions. Perhaps there is some steroid usage involved? Several of the veggies appeared to be images of Richard Nixon.

I looked at tractors much older than me, but in much better condition.

A lot of tender loving care and hard-earned money went into the restoration of these iron horses.

Earplugs were being sold for a dollar outside the grandstand.

They could have gotten more for them.

I gave my &uot;If I didn’t want you to stare, I wouldn’t be wearing this T-shirt&uot; award to a woman wearing one reading, &uot;The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but it’s still on my list.&uot;

There are so many interesting things to see and do at the fair, but that’s not why we go to the fair. It’s an eating contest.

We sport clothing carrying stains of every color of the condiment rainbow.

Gluttony becomes the theme. We eat more in a day at the fair than we would in a week at home.

We practice artery-busting decadence until we are able to achieve a level of enlightened nausea.

Food stands abound. They are called food stands because you have to stand in line in order to

get food and then you consume it while you stand.

Junk foods are junkier at the fair. Heart-stopping foods without warning labels.

My neighbor Crandall hits the fair with a motto, &uot;Eat what you want and die like a man.&uot; Little

Debbie and Sara Lee are the only women my neighbor has ever really trusted.

Foods on a stick are the destiny that shapes our ends.

A deep-fried Twinkie impaled on a stick offering all of the basic food groups: Sugar, foam rubber, grease and wood.

If a nuclear bomb were to hit, all that would survive would be cockroaches and Twinkies &045; and maybe the Green Bay Packers.

Deep-fried macaroni and cheese on a stick, deep-fried Milky Way candy bars on a stick, deep fried sweet corn on a stick, deep fried dill pickles on a stick and deep-fried lutefisk on a stick.

OK, I might have only dreamed about the lutefisk on a stick, but there is plenty of bad for you on a stick available at a fair.

Directions are pointed out with corn dogs.

I talked to a fairgoer while I was perusing the wine list at the foot-long hotdog stand.

He told me that his wife told him to be home by seven, but he’d only eaten six foot-long hotdogs so far.

I listened to the sounds of chomping teeth as they sliced off buttery kernels of sweet corn and I espied mini-doughnuts in maxi-numbers.

There are no mirrors at the fair &045; other than at the funhouse. There’s a reason for their scarcity. We eat less if we are near a mirror.

The fair is the place to get plenty of Vitamin G &045; grease.

Get plenty of grease in your diet. It’s a long slide.

I love the fair, but someone could make a mint by having an antacid stand.

(Hartland resident writes a column for the Tribune each Wednesday and Sunday.)