Reason 243

Festival fun. On our drive into the bowels of Oregon the other day we passed a sign touting the little town of Aumsville's annual Corn Festival, which got me thinking about all the incredible activities that could take place during what must be the high point of the year for folks in surrounding areas. I bet dollars to doughnuts a Corn Queen competition is held, pitting teenage girls with low self-esteem against one another to show off their corn-fed physiques in itty, bitty bathing suits while they twirl flaming cobs in the air, all for the glory of a gift certificate to the local hardware store and a tiara bedazzled with shellacked popcorn kernels. After the nail-biting wait to hear the pageant results, festival attendees probably gorge themselves on a myriad of corn-based food products like corn chips, corn tortillas, corn chowder, cornbread, corn flakes (I'm starting to feel like Bubba from Forrest Gump - I better stop), all of which can be washed down with a generous jar of moonshine (which, for the high class folks out there, may be made from corn mash). At the crafts booth you can snag a commemorative corncob pipe, which can then be enjoyed during the corn shucking contest and corny joke portion of the festival. Perhaps if the citizens of Aumsville are horror fans they can even hold a screening of The Children of the Corn; I bet the freaky kid who played Isaac would show up to sign some autographs if asked really nicely. I can even think of a certain lucrative corn-themed activity that might pull in gay men with lots of disposable income if Aumsville wants to show off just how liberal Portland's southern neighbors can be. I honestly have no idea what goes on at the real Corn Festival, but if it's anything like the one I've imagined, I would love to check it out with you, Jason. In fact, I am pretty much up for bizarre festivities any day of the year, so if you hear about some underground doughnut days or worshipping of the almighty almond, let me know and I'll be happy accompany you. I don't make any promises about refraining from heckling inbred girls who decide to degrade themselves on stage for a couple minutes in the spotlight and a sparkly sash, though. Call them scholarship programs all you want - this feminist ain't buying it.