Getting Saucy at the Fair

[landshark]

There are some things in my life that I really do not want to see again. Jeff Kramer naked is one of them. Basking in the afterglow of our session out in Chevrolet Court at the State Fair should not have to include seeing Jeff without any pretense on at all.

But I still cannot help but love the man. What he did yesterday for the good of the nation and to atone for his sins against Quilters is remarkable on so many levels. The courage it took for him to step into that tub out in the middle of the walkway, with his hands secured behind his back, and sit down and endure gallons of Dinosaur barbeque sauce, handfuls of sausage, and an occasional mouthful of Pizza Frittes just makes me adore him all the more.

He took it for the quilters. He took it for the hurricane victims. Along with help from Red Cross volunteers, Jeff and I were able to cajole the crowd into giving up $11,617.23 … in 30 minutes time. I just walked around with a bucket and taunted the crowd to get even with an Anti-Quilter and to help out our brothers and sisters down South. Handfuls of money poured into the bucket as though people have been aching to do something positive and somehow help in the relief effort. For Jeff, taking a gallon down the back of his shirt, on top of his head, while all the while barking like a seal for a bite of pizza fritte, this was his way of breaking free from the horrors of the news while still finding a way to give something back.

Well he God Damned earned my respect today. He took a lot of pain and endured an endless barrage of insults for the good of the nation. If you see him, he deserves one helluva “atta-boy”.

I too took away a lesson today. Do NOT mess with quilters. They were lined up three across and 15 deep about 2 hours before the Fair opened just to be first among those who were going to tar and feather the Post Standard features writer. The couldn’t wait to get their grubby little paws on him. It was all I could do to keep them from storming him all at once. Demanding $50.00 donations seemed to temper their zeal, but only for a while.

From very young children to the most senior State Police Sergeant, the bright shiney hairless dome of Jeff’s head made the perfect bullseye for dumping the sauce. Everybody had a hand in it. When I went into his office to tell Peter Cappicelli about our success after the event, his secretary asked if we were going to do this event again. I said I would love to, but Jeff has nobody else to insult. Methinks he got just about everybody this year.

Yet out of the ashes arose the phoenix and Jeff managed to pull his own ass out of the fire. The burning of the sauce and the sting of thrown sausage could not possibly have bruised his ego as did the ride from Chevrolet Court to the Goat Barn. Driven slowly by tractor and displayed on a towed flatbed trailer, Jeff sat there drenched in sauce for the entire Fair to see. I rode along on the back carrying his stuff. The looks we got as we passed through the throngs were priceless. Without exception, women wrinkled their noses, children went “ewwwwww”, and guys laughed. Since we were moving and I had no time to schmooze and fill them in, I just told people that this is the punishment for sneaking into the Fair. You get sauced and sausaged.

Well all fun must eventually end. The Qwazy Quilters all joined us in the Goat Barn and I watched as they engaged in a mutual love fest … full of forgiveness, smiles and pictures of a dripping wet Jeff licking a goat.

So, the party was over and Jeff needed an escort to the shower and we had to count the money. While he showered, I was in the waiting area and could not believe how much money came out of the buckets.

“Organization” is apparently not a Kramer hallmark as despite knowing if his folly for the day and his intentions of showering after, my dear friend Jeff forgot his pants. Yes indeed, he brought two shirts and no pants to change into.

Does anybody know where you can buy a pair of men’s pants or shorts at the Fairgrounds? Think quick. Especially men’s waist size 58 (wink). I called every resource and connection I had on the grounds and the best I could come up with was a pair of women’s shorts, a sarong, and some baby pants that said “lil brat”.

None of that being good enough, Jeff did what any self respecting man would do under similar circumstances. He wrapped his towel around his waist and proceeded to walk around and across the entire crowded afternoon fairgrounds in search of men’s pants. I suggested he try one of the summer dresses we came upon and told him I bet nobody would notice. After all, not a single person said anything about a man with no pants walking around the fairgrounds with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Eventually, we walked all the way through Chevrolet Court, over to the Red Cross table, and handed over the money. They were shocked and clueless what to do with all that money. The smile on their faces was worth it all.

And, once again, despite promising to buy me lunch, Jeff thanked me and everybody, turned and sashayed away with to his car and home … his towel flapping peacefully in the breeze.
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I dont want a life I can live with. I want a life I can't live without.