Sin of the Month • Abby Bardi
	The Fair

My husband has been arguing with Republicans again. This past month, he spent an entire week at the county fair, locked in heated debate with anyone who crossed his path—anyone, at least, who inexplicably preferred talking about politics to going on rides, examining farm animals, and gorging themselves on fried food.

Every August for the past six years or so, my husband has bought a week-long pass for the fair and has gone there daily to volunteer at the Democratic booth. Though I love the fair, with its air of shabby hopefulness, I can only stand a few hours of it. One afternoon is plenty of time in which to watch the Sue Wee pig races, then eat fair food and go on rides that make me sick. Specifically, I have a weakness for soft-shell crabs, which taste rather like cicadas (I think), and for the Ferris wheel.

In past years, my husband has been available to wander around, declaring the chickens “poultry in motion” and discussing the state of the cows’ pasterns, but increasingly, he spends all his time in the Democratic booth, discussing the state of America under the Bush Administration.

This year, my afternoon at the fair started out well enough, but it was clear that rain was on the way as Hurricane Charley traveled up the east coast, and I figured it might be a good idea to grab some crabs, check out some cows, and hit the Ferris wheel before it poured. Unfortunately, my husband was locked in a seemingly endless debate with the Republicans, during which the weather began to take a turn for the worse. I decided to duck into a few of the exhibition halls to look at wilted vegetables; talk to people about roofing, siding, and insulation that I don’t want; and enter drawings that I will never win but which will result in annoying telemarketing calls for years to come.

When I returned from my stroll, my husband was still talking to the Republicans, who seemed to be wavering somewhat in their support for Bush but were caught up on the issue of abortion. They felt that if Kerry were elected, partial-birth abortions would become mandatory, and millions would be performed, to add to the zillions that are already performed each year, according to them—at least, I think that’s what they said. I grabbed my husband’s elbow and said he had something really important to do, and we tried to leave, but the Republicans chased us, requesting my husband’s email address so they could email him some stuff. He gave it to them, and I’m sure he’ll be sorry.

"It had started to rain in earnest, and the Republican booth had closed up early. One of the Democrats noted that this indicated that the Dems had the most stamina and would thus prevail ultimately, but someone else pointed out that the Republicans would just say the Dems didn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain."

With the Republicans still on our heels, we managed to escape to the dining hall, where I ate some desiccated, cicada-like soft-shell crabs. Then I suggested that we go on the Ferris wheel, but it had started to rain in earnest, and the rides were shutting down. There was nothing left to do but find some more Republicans and argue with them.

But the Republican booth had closed up early. One of the Democrats noted that this indicated that the Dems had the most stamina and would thus prevail ultimately, but someone else pointed out that the Republicans would just say the Dems didn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain.

But I did—I left the fair, humming that Bonnie Raitt song about having stayed too long at it. When I got home, though, I had had enough of politics that afternoon, so I decided to watch Robert Greenwald’s documentary Outfoxed: Rupert Murdoch’s War on Journalism, a riveting look at the unfair, unbalanced practices of Fox News. (To order a copy, go to outfoxed.org.) The film demonstrates that Fox is an organ of the Republican party, whose “talking points” are picked up by the right-wing media every day. It’s clear from the movie-—and for that matter, from just opening one’s eyes and taking a look around—that the Republicans have a clear, controlled message that they hammer into people ceaselessly.

What does their opposition have?

My husband. He stayed at the fair in the rain until dark, closing up the Democratic booth and no doubt arguing with more Republicans. When he got home, he was so tired from his week of altercations that he went to bed early and slept for twelve hours. The next morning, as soon as he’d had enough caffeine, he started talking about politics again, mostly to the dog, who listens courteously, nodding every so often as if moved by a particularly cogent point.

The week before the fair, I had gone to a party where everyone was arguing about politics, despite the fact that they were all liberals, or progressives, or whatever we’re called nowadays, and thus were more or less in agreement about everything. The arguing was about whether Kerry will beat Bush: those of us who had sunny dispositions thought he would, and those of us who were more given to gloom and angst thought he wouldn’t. The two things everyone was sure of were (1) that the new Diebold electronic voting machines are truly scary, and (2) that if Bush wins, the world doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell after he gets done with it.

Whether or not Bush wins—and I pray that he won’t—I will always remember this year’s county fair: the way the neon lights of the rides glistened in the mist; the way the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Ferris wheel, and the Dizzy Dragon all ground to a halt and puddles started to form in the cow barns as the rain picked up; the way the people with Bush/Cheney stickers glared at the Democratic booth, and we glared back; and the way my husband stayed there all week, trying to save the world.