A sad, sad day in Apple land. As you’ve no doubt already heard (and shed many tears over), Steve Jobs has resigned as CEO of Apple. Yes, the Jobless rate has increased yet again. Speculation is he’s doing personal product research on the next great Apple product, the iCasket (which of course will be white, come in 32 and 64 gig models, and will have a proprietary interface that won’t fit in a regular grave, so will require interment in an ‘iHole’). Mac fanboys (and girls) spent most of yesterday weeping over the genius that is Jobs (who could sell snow to the Inuits; in fact, there are those who say Jobs both invented snow – why do you think it’s white? – and sued God for patent infringement). As one saddened commenter put it: “Steve is a genius who can never be replaced.” Oh, the pain was palpable. “Tech” writers are unsure what to make of the Jobs’ resignation, but nonetheless dubbed the move “brilliant,” and “game-changing.”

Never fear, though. Much like the devastation of this week’s earthquake, we’ll all get through this. Jobs may be gone (or not; he wants to stay on as an Apple employee – probably needs the health insurance), but the next, “must have” overpriced proprietary devices are already slated for release.

If I could afford it, I’d definitely buy an iPad, an iPhone, and a new MacBook. Except probably not the iPhone, because I’m pretty much locked into my Blackberry for work purposes, and I more or less never use a phone. And, actually, I wouldn’t get the iPad, ‘cuz I’d prefer something with USB ports and a memory card slot (when Apple finally adds these features to its iPad, I predict they will be dubbed “brilliant,” and “game-changing”). I wouldn’t mind a new MacBook, though the one I have right now is getting the jobs (so to speak) done (when its touchpad isn’t acting insanely). And it was free.

Free is pretty much the price point I require these days. Unless Apple wants to come out with an ‘iPlow’ for my tractor (not white though, please; I hit enough shit trying to clear my driveway). Though tractor toys are already expensive enough without Apple getting their paws into them.

If Apple made tractor implements, I’m certain they’d be incredibly “stylish,” would become obsolete between the time they shipped and were delivered, and would, of course, require an Apple tractor – MacTractor? MacTract Pro? – (which would be dubbed “brilliant,” and “game-changing”) with an iPTO and i3PH.

Today isn’t an early day for me, but thanks to a line of t-storms that moved through at about 3:30 AM, the dogs and I all decided to go ahead and get up early anyway. The storms seem to be over for the moment, so the dogs have gone back to bed. I, however, am still wide awake.

It appears that some more rain (if not lightning; let’s hope the lightning is over) is on the way, but hopefully things will clear up before long because today is…

Yes, opening day of the Great NY State Fair. Presumably Governor Snotball will be here to do the official opening (assuming they can get the State Airplane through the rain) and do all that distasteful mingling with the “little people” and praising our cows.

It’s a privilege to be here in Sarah-Queues, and to see your many lovely cows. I only hope my friend Ed Koch and I will have time to drive for half an hour in our pickup truck to go to Sears while we’re here.

Then there’s the obligatory “money shot” of the Guv shoving a sausage sandwich down his throat (or maybe sticking it in the face of his girlfriend from the Food Channel, who will try not to look too disgusted – assuming they can get her off the plane in the first place).

I don’t have time to list all the activities of the day (sorry to disappoint you!), but the free (after you pay the 10 bucks to get in – but if you’re ‘in the know’ you got your discounted tickets long ago) entertainment alone includes the Pointer Sisters and Gatlin Brothers, the African Acrobats, and the Harlem Wizards Basketball Trick Show (good thing for the Wizards that the Globetrotters aren’t owned by Apple, or they’d have gotten a copyright on ‘Harlem’ and a patent on basketball).

When I was a kid, we used to look forward to “Fair Week” (this was before they figured they could make more money if they extended it to first 10 – and now 12 – days). Back then they had moon rocks on display, a guy flying around in a jet pack (which I was certain we’d all have long before now), live veterinary surgery (which was typically a dog getting spayed), and of course all kinds of glimpses into the future (you now, like the year 2000) in the “Center of Progress” building.

Not to mention the livestock. This may not be Ohio or Indiana (you can tell, because a Midwest butter sculpture wouldn’t celebrate a godless socialistic institution like school lunches), but by golly it’s still all about the livestock (I’m guessing few of you know just how many different kinds of chickens there are). But there’s more than just poultry.

The real stars of the livestock barns are the pigs, horses, and, yes, the aforementioned cows. A walk through the cow barn always yields the sight of a cow or two dropping a calf. Did you know that baby cows arrive in a big pink bag of saltwater taffy? It’s true – I seen it with my own eyes. And as a reward for all her hard work, mama gets to eat the whole thing (of taffy; not the calf).

Then there are the rides. Yes, the Midway. I never really rode the rides much as a kid. For one thing, I’m sure they were ungodly expensive even back then (and we weren’t exactly the wealthiest family on the block), and for another I was a decade younger than my siblings, and had nobody to ride the rides with. Sitting atop the Double Ferris Wheel just isn’t the same when you’re alone (it does help to explain my hermitic tendencies, though).

As I got older, my interest in the Midway and Livestock barns waned – replaced by my interest in girls and the beer tents. I vaguely recall many a warm summer night spent stumbling around drunk, checking out the babes (never much more than ogling from afar, much to my chagrin; hard to believe nobody was interested in a sweaty drunken slob, but chicks are funny that way).

Eventually, I found out that there was a whole new experience to be had after the Fair shut down for the night. Turns out, it never really closes, and if you head out there after the bars close, you get to hang out with the Carnies and the toothless, tattooed characters who staff the booths, rides, and sideshows all day long. Let me tell ya, you aint lived ’til you’ve partied with Alligator Man and The Human Torso until the sun comes up.

These were my kind of people, and I fit right in.

Of course, I’m old now, can’t stay up much past 8:00, and haven’t been out to the fair in years (last time I went was back in 1998, I think, when I worked a union voter registration table, and got to go watch Don McClean’s soundcheck). Somewhere along the way, Syracuse seems to have drifted south of the Mason-Dixon line (at least for the last couple weeks of August). Back in my day, the entertainment consisted of quality acts like The Cowsills (Mom’s been dead for over 25 years now, Katrina took Barry, and Bill passed away in 2006), Sonny & Cher, and Sha Na Na.

Now? It’s all Country shit. No offense to Country Music, of course, but, Christ, does everything have to be Country?

I mean, this is Syracuse, not Nashville.

But to each his own, and I guess they aren’t targeting me, ‘cuz I’m not gonna pay $50 (or more) to go see a concert anyway. And to be fair, in addition to Country, they also seem to book the ‘Geezer Rock’ bands. Always nice to see my wrinkly, grey-haired, bald-headed, tie-dye clad peers rocking out (wondering who the hell that young kid playing drums with Three Dog Night is).

Oh well, time to get ready for work, I guess.