"Best Days of Summer"

There's a disease spreading, people, and if we don't stop it soon and protect ourselves, we're all going to be sick - sick with symptoms like he- and she-mullets, greasy foreheads, too many kids-in-tow, ripped jean shorts, sweat stains, and socks-n-sandals.

This isn't a disease, like the Hi-Five or loose stool syndrome (LSS), one in which you can take a pill or a series of shots for and be cured, but a disease that can only be cured by ignoring the urge to participate or by ignoring your white trash friend's requests to follow them - follow them to hell.

This hell of which I speak - this disease - is known as "SFS" or State Fair Syndrome.

Every year around August 1, the local news media, specifically KARE11, begin their countdown to the "Greatest Days of Summer." Now, I put quotes around that title so you know for sure it is not of my making. I would imagine the Greatest Days of Summer being those days which I don't have to work and get to lay around at home, but I digress. The anchors will be simply jazzed to get back out to the grounds, around their faithful watchers, knowing these idiots want to be "this close" to their heroes. "Julie Nelson!!!!" "The Perk... Perk at Play, Perk at Play, Perk at Play!" "Oh ... my... God! Sven Sunsgaard! He's SO hot... and so not gay!"

For those of you who don't know, the State Fair is basically the world's largest, smelliest, and most pathetic food court - except this food court is outside, surrounded by bees and urine puddles. Now, people will try to sell you on going there to eat various foods off of sticks, but if I really need to eat cheese curds, I'll go to the MOA and have a batch, or better yet, drive to A&W and get a bucket full. "What, no stick?!"

Why would anyone want to sit in traffic for a few hours (in the sweltering heat), pay $20 for parking, walk a mile-and-a-half, wait in line for an overpriced ticket, all to hang around with a cacophony of Anokians? I'd rather get my teeth drilled sans novocaine.

Listen, I get that people have different interests. That's fine and dandy. I enjoy making sweet love to women. Other men enjoy making love to couch cushions, their cousins, or coke bottles. Whatever it takes, I suppose. But, the State Fair? I haven't heard one solid argument supporting a trip (much less yearly trips!) to the State Fair.

You want to see animals? Go to the Zoo. You want to see mullets? Go to Coon Rapids.

I was, to prove my point, going to show a slew of photos showing all sorts of W.T. at the fair, but to tell you the truth, the web is chalk full of these examples - just go to the official site for god's sake and browse year's past. I was looking at some photos and was thinking I was in a photo folder from 1987, but these photos were taken LAST YEAR... photos of way extremely overweight women covered in grease from the myriad foods (deep fried) they were consuming. There were others of families made up of mullets and mustaches (kids, wives, sisters, et al.). One photo showed a man petting a pig, all the while eating a god damn pork sandwich - on a stick no less! I don't get it.

"The concerts... man, you got to go to them (sic) concerts," said a coworker of mine who goes, on multiple occasions, each year. "We're going to the Merle Haggard/Trisha Yearwood concert."

She added, "And then we'll go back the next day to watch the News LIVE... My boyfriend, 'The Br*d," has been on camera waiving, twice! He's, like, famous!!"

Seriously, people go and sit at the KARE11 booth or any of the local news tents and WATCH the news live... hopinig to get on camera. "Hi mom...," or "Blaine rules!" they'll shout and wave and act like complete rubes. I fear that some outsider is watching and going, "Yeap, these people in Minnesota truly have yet to evolve."

This is my favorite...

"We go every year to people watch," said another of my coworkers. This particular woman goes multiple times a year, planning day trips during work. "Me and the To**er go, get 'dem (sic) beers, have too much food, and watch the rubes and white trash walk on by. It's the best. We go a few times!"

Sorry miss, YOU are the people who are being watched... not the watchers.