So, the venerable Bob Dylan was opening the concert series of the even more venerable State Fair last go-round, and we were on hand to inspect the decay (of both Dylan and the Fair). Lo and behold, the ancient pair were doing just fine, thank you, quirky as all get-out, but in a most enjoyable way. Before stepping into the old Madhouse on McDowell (as Suns announcer Al McCoy used to call it), we stood our ground at the food stand that sells the giant "grilled to perfection" turkey legs, and watched the parade of humanity — much of it tatted seemingly from head to toe. There were babies upon babies (not tatted, yet) in strollers, papoose boards, carriages, and wrapped in their loving parents' arms. Those adults who weren't sucking down a beer were eating something madly sugary, deep-fried, or — eek! — both. Everyone seemed to be having fun, and no one was in a hurry to get anywhere. We stepped over to the bizarre little show where folks oddly allowed themselves to be hypnotized by some fast-talking dude on a mini-stage as spectators looked on in some kind of awe. Finally, it was time to find our way into the Coliseum to see old Bob. Like the State Fair itself, he kicked butt, and took his time doing it. Thankfully in this instance, the times they weren't a-changing.