I just returned from a visit to my sister and her family in Iowa. As usual we attended the Corn Festival and, my favorite, the Tractor Fair. Triple blessed, we also got to enjoy the Iowa State Fair in the 92 degree sunshine. Not to be missed was the day’s climax, the “2016 Big Boar Competition” held in the Swine Barn.
The combination of heat, crowd and competitors defeat the powers of my vocabulary. What fun to see eight rugged men and women struggle to push, shove and cajole the beauties onto the scale where they obviously didn’t want to go (I sympathized completely). Finally, to thunderous cheers, handsome, three and a half year old Fred was announced victorious with a grand total of 1,155 pounds; a full seven pounds over his arch rival Lugnut.
Charmingly embarrassed, Fred wore the slightly feminine crown of entwined bacon strips and sausage lei with dignity. Naturally, bedlam ensued as everyone closed in for selfies and group photos. I maintained my dignity and graciously let others go before me. At times the crowd became so great I couldn’t see him, but believe me, I knew he was nearby.
For your edification, I copied down the important details as they were announced. He survives by eating up to 20 pounds of cornmeal and guzzling down 10 gallons of water daily. No excessive calories, however, like loser Lugnut who reportedly often eats up to 60 day-old Wal-Mart doughnuts at a sitting (squatting?).
The happy winner was acknowledged as somewhat lazy, but with a gentle temperament. Amidst the revelry, I felt it indelicate to ask about Fred’s future: a decadent, sensual life siring more winners or … another path.
No face, twit or blog
Sorry not to instantly reply to my friends’ emails, but I check my email once a day, often in the evening. I am not tied to the computer like the kids (those under 50) and their phones.
Speaking of which, remember the free iPhone 4 I got from my friend when he got a 6? An up-date: after two months, one might assume I am apping all and sundry, driving everyone crazy by constantly tapping away, questioning Mr. Know-All who lives inside and, in general, ignoring those around me. No. I have made and received a few calls, but that does not negate the inundation of calls from Kenya, unknown sales people plus messages from Moaning Martha, Sexy Sue and Patsy Pee all offering therapeutic services. Where is the spam button?
My avoidance of machines extends unfortunately to the many social media outlets which I just do not understand, additionally confounded now by this “cloud” people keep referring to. Several fans, a couple anyway, wonder why they can’t find me on Facebook. Easy answer: I’m not there. I do not face, twit or blog. Constant reports of deception, stalking, bullying, etc. make me leery. I am afraid of receiving the same from the nuts and cowards who can’t handle real face to face contact.
The young may say I exaggerate and they have no such problems having hundreds of “friends” all over the world (whom they have never met). Maybe so, but I would like my feedback via a real letter or the “like” button at the top of the online edition page or the “comment” section at the bottom.
To contact me with a message, question or suggested topic, write to me by letter or the machine at editor@lgbtweekly.jeffjungblut.com.
