Big Tex, giant patriarch of the State Fair of Texas, is no more.
He has ceased to be. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. He has kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the great fried Twinkie in the sky.
And as sad as it is that such a great and prominent figure of so many Texans' childhoods is gone, and as utterly devastated as we here at Mojo are, it's important to take a moment and remember all the fond memories we have of the large cowboy, and perhaps chuckle at the morbid hilarity thinking of all the small children running in terror from the sight of his burning form as he beckoned, engulfed in billowing flames, appearing very much like some hellish demon, and greeted them warmly, "Welcome to the State Fair of Texas."
Our ever vigilant leader Mike suggested we make a quip about how, at the moment of his fiery death, he hoped Big Tex didn't look like your latest marketing campaign. I think that's in bad taste. (But if it did, give us a call!) Big Tex on fire is a fantastic marketing campaign. We all want to go visit him and pay our respects, perhaps lay flowers or fried butter at his charred wire frame feet. If this doesn't pack people into the state fair, nothing will. Even if they rebuilt him, the old Tex of my childhood is gone. Twenty years from now when people ask, "Where were you when Big Tex burned?" I will know exactly where I was. And it's fitting with the times. The loss of Big Tex is a loss of innocence, and though our nation has been cynical for a decade, maybe the fire is Big Tex catching up.
We should celebrate Tex with a candlelight vigil. He would have done the same for us.