Last year, before we found out that how the State Fair was going to replace Big Tex, I came up with a few options. I was dead serious about all of them except the giant anthropomorphic corn dog — because, come on, that’s just stupid. But one of them I was more dead serious (deader serious? dead seriouser?) about: burning down Big Tex every year. There are a few solid reasons for this:
1. I, for one, will sleep easier for the other 11 months of the year knowing there is absolutely zero chance that lightning will strike Big Tex or there will be some weird chemical mishap or whatever that will turn Big Tex sentient and into an almost unstoppable killing machine. I begrudgingly tolerate his presence at the Fair because I assume they have taken the proper precautions should such a scenario unfold. I don’t know, some sort of tractor beam or something. Look, don’t get bogged down in the science or we’re going to be here all night.
2. Pretty much no one cared about Big Tex except for kids and liars until he (or it, I guess) caught on fire last year. Come on. COME ON. It was a backdrop for photos and a meeting place. That’s it. Besides being awesome, burning Big Tex will give him some meaning again.
3. It would drum up business for the last day of the Fair.
4. It would bring me a step closer to realizing my dream of firing a flaming arrow into the chest of Big Tex while hanging out the passenger window of a 1977 Camaro driven by a cackling Mayor Mike Rawlings.
