SALEM, Ore. — Local punk Trent Jackson planned to attend the state fair “ironically” this weekend, making it the seventh year in a row he’s made such a proclamation, sources close to the man confirmed.
“Hell yeah, the state fair is coming up, I can’t wait to eat fried cotton candy and check out the carousel, zipper, and gravitron rides—as I try to stifle laughter at all the cornfed hillbillies having the greatest day of their life. I’m not excited about it or anything, you just get a really good view of all the lame shit I want to make fun of from the ferris wheel,” said Jackson, discreetly crossing another date off his calendar. “And obviously the only reason I wanna go see the baby piglet races at the 4-H Pavilion is so I can yell cop jokes at them. Otherwise, I could really take it or leave it.”
But as the days ticked down to the opening weekend, Jackson’s friends started to grow suspicious at his enthusiasm for the fair.
“I’m always down to go eat some fucked up fried food and rip on stupid families for enjoying themselves in public, but if I didn’t know any better I’d think Trent was actually excited about the state fair—it’s all he’s been talking about for weeks,” said longtime friend Alfie Cruz, eyeing the collection of state fair entry bands Jackson had in his apartment. “It’d be one thing if we just hopped the fence to get in and boosted some prizes from the ring toss booth, but he actually shelled out for a three-day pass this year. He better have stolen some drink tickets for the beer garden or something, because that was supposed to be our coke money.”
One wizened old carnival worker warned that the glitz and glamor of the state fair can be too much for even the most ironic visitors to resist for long.
“I used to be a punk just like those kids, but the intoxicating allure of the state fair captivated me down to my core. Sure you come here as a joke at first, but one day the trailer behind the matterhorn becomes your matterhome and you never return to your old life,” said Creed Murphy, knocking over a bottle with a perfectly aimed stream of chewing tobacco spit. “But carny life ain’t so bad—it’s easy to drink on the job, hygiene isn’t a big deal, ripping tourists off is encouraged—actually come to think of it, my life really hasn’t changed much since my street punk days.”
At press time, Jackson was last seen having the time of his life moshing in the bumper car pit.