Art fair, say its enemies, is neither art, nor is it fair.  I mean, obviously we’re talking the world’s hugest craft fair here, the “original” as the website touts, and if you plunk something like that down in a lovely little faux-liberal Midwestern college town you get a recipe for disaster.  It’s like the perfect storm of yuppie assholes, Viceland DON’TS and people who are driving the wrong cars (or the right cars for the wrong reasons…or just the right cars the wrong way down streets).  Not only that but I can’t go anywhere.  We went and got groceries and booze last night and that’s the last time I think I’m going to be driving my car for some time now.

I’ll be the first to say it, but only yuppie assholes are really the kind of material that art fair attracts.  The real avant-garde (and I kind of cringe to myself typing that, because I’m really up in the air about how avant-garde some of the “real” avant-garde really is) has their own shit.  Scrummage UniversityShadow Art FairArbor Vitae.  House shows made of win and awesome.  They might look remarkably similar to a number of Art Fair vendors, but they sure aren’t the same.  I can’t imagine any of my friends selling their shit to 50-somethings in fanny packs and sun visors.  (On the other hand, we also will be living in boxes in ten years.)

Though I guess you can’t rag on these guys too much.  I mean, it’s yuppies buying arts and crafts made by yuppies, for yuppies.  It’s like, if they weren’t all up in my streets, walking in front of my car when I have a green light, knotting in groups in the most inconvenient of locations, tying my friends down to their shitty downtown jobs, speeding the wrong way down my neighborhood streets and generally being a nuisance if you want to do anything at all for the next week in town, they would be an entirely autonomous social region.  It’s like an invasion.  Or a plague of locusts, or something.