Oh, the joys of the State Fair. Where else can you see flashing lights, deep-fried everything, and the worst teeth this side of the Atlantic. The State Fair.

Got to try a deep-fried Snickers bar; on a stick, no less. Interesting, and it tasted OK, but it was a little soggy and looked like a deep-fried turd. Also, tried out their “deep-fried burrito”, which to me is the basic definition of a chimichanga. But, whatever. You say potato, I say potato. One man’s deep-fried potato slices are another man’s fries.

I’ve had a number of jobs throughout my life and gained valuable experience, or at least interesting stories, in each of them. But I am proud to say that I have never been a carny. I mean, a job’s a job, but there aren’t many rungs that are lower on the ladder, you know. Like, this is where circus folk go after they’re fired.

There is that one redeeming quality about the state fair that makes up for all of its other faults. Indian fry bread. Oh, what a glorious culinary delight. Deep-fry a wad of dough, then cover it in sugar and honey. It doesn’t get a lot better than this, folks.

Can’t wait ’til next year.