I have lived south of the Mason-Dixon (WELL south of the Mason-Dixon) for not-quite 1/2 my life & if adulthood comes at 14 (this is the south) most of my adult life, but I am still not of the south. They say you are never a local (anywhere, not just here, but where I grew up as well) unless you were as-good-as-born there. Still, I have acquired some southern preferences. No, not barbecue. or NASCAR. or Jesus. But no one & I mean no one does irreverent mash-ups like they do in the deep south. I am eagerly awaiting a barbecued Jesus NASCAR event, I know there is one somewhere down here.& that is as far as I got yesterday morning, saved the file & opened it again when this morning the tv was full of a Baptist Minister (no doubt with his own First Baptist Church somewhere) with a product endorsement prayer & a movie rip-off. For the record this is not what I mean. The best thing about this prayer is it reminded me of that Southern Culture on the Skids cover, which is I guess where I will end now.
When I lived towards the north-eastern corner of this very large country, every summer, if we could, me & my mom used to go to a regular fair held at the local polo grounds (& if that right there does not tell you what kind of let-your-hair down community it is not, I do not know what will). It was a very large, very civilized event. Refreshments all on one side & almost no one brought their food out of that area; screaming running kids were just not to be found. A much smaller fundraiser for a local church, complete with rides & carnies, was also just not the cut loose kind of thing you read about in books or see in movies.
& then I came here. Let me say we do live less than 5 miles from the winter home of at least one major circus, so what we experience now is what people who are paid to make sure everyone else has a good time do when they go active-relaxing.