Corn Palace Losing Its Kernels
In the cornucopia of kitschy roadside attractions, few rival the Corn Palace, a monument to maize that rises from the main drag in Mitchell, South Dakota like a Hollywood prop tossed off the back of a big rig barreling down the interstate. I have great affection for the green-and-yellow onion domes of the Corn Palace: not only are they located in my home state of South Dakota but they provided the backdrop for one of my first attempts, at age 12, to get plastered. I believe the drug of choice was Ripple Pagan Pink, a ghetto wine of such surpassing grottiness that street drunks have been known to refuse it, rather in the manner that street dope fiends who tried to cadge cigarettes from my friend Tom Steele would, upon finding that he was proferring low-tar-and-nicotine Carltons, turn up their noses and run. But back to the Corn Palace: it’s fallen on hard times, alas, and needs a shot of relevance to wake up visitors.
