Fair weather approaches

[This is an old one. Early to mid 1990s. Read it as the historical artifact that it is. It was published on opening day of the Nevada County Fair, the first year the newspaper handed out free copies to everyone at the main gates. The next day the publisher called to let me know he, and dozens of county fair patrons didn't share my point of view.]

Everyone in my neck of the woods has been talking about the county fair for months. It is the social event of the year for many of my neighbors. I like the fair too. In fact it would be perfect if I could avoid a sunburned nose and the parking lot dust -- and a couple of other things.
Last year I followed my sunscreened but otherwise functional nose to the area where the livestock was kept before it was auctioned off and became deadstock. I got to witness an event called Musical Pigs sponsored by one of the local Multiple-Letter Club.
This competition was patterned after the children's game, musical chairs, except a pig was removed after each round instead of a chair. No one actually sat on a pig, of course, and no pigs were permitted to sit. Disoriented, squealing, 200-pound pigs were herded into the arena and the Multiple-Letter kids "helped" them to run around.
I am no swine expert, but from what I saw it seems that most pigs do not run of their own free will. The average pig must be coaxed into a trot by pounding on its rump with a balled fist or with a heavy wooden cane, or by grabbing its ears and twisting as hard as possible. Many of the pigs had long welts and cuts on their shoulders and rumps -- either from the kids' encouragements, or from other anxious pigs when they were jammed into the smaller holding pens. Many of the handlers used the curved end of the cane to hook an animal's snout, often jabbing the pig's eye in the process.
The music was blaring hard-rock-blues, and the lyrics delved into such swine-related topics as "Let Me Be Your Hog", "Bad To The Bone", and a little ditty about a pig falling off a truck. When all but one of the pigs had been removed from the arena, the two remaining human contestants had a foot race across the arena to see who could tag (read: club) the animal first with a cane.
This contest went on for several rounds including an adult division where most of the human contestants far outweighed the pigs, and waddled around looking like they were the ones who had been fattened up for market. Grand prize: one box of fudge (to the human entrant, of course). The porcine contestants were herded back to their stalls to await the Sunday slave auction.
The pudgy crowd of spectators squealed with delight throughout, and the Multiple-Letter Club children learned something valuable about animal husbandry -- or did they? I mean, I was taught not to play with my food. Never thought to beat it up!
Equally remarkable, although I missed it myself, was the rodeo. I can't believe there are really that many working cowpersons left. The rodeo circuit acts like a government subsidy to keep this "endangered species" alive and kicking. The one animal who won't be kicking anymore is a little barrel-racing pony who snapped a leg bone while performing before a sell-out crowd. Permanently "retired."
I wisely wore earplugs for the Logger's Olympics where the revving nitro-powered chainsaws were louder than the starting line at a drag race. Some of these gigantic chainsaw engines were big enough to power a small car. The chainbars were as big as ironing boards. Contestants performed such useful tasks as scaling a telephone poll to ring a little bell on top, slicing a hundred-year-old tree into wafer-thin disks, wacking logs into a pile of wood chips, and throwing battle axes at beer cans. The crowd roared its approval each time a contestant connected and drew foam.
Which leads me to my personal favorite fair-time activity: sitting in the shade in sweltering heat with a carbonated refreshment in one hand watching the fashion show parade by. The subtle engineering that goes into summer clothing ventilation and moisture evaporation technology is truly amazing, as is the mind-boggling variety and placement of tan lines and body tattoos.
Every year I am fairly impressed.