Posted on April 27, 2025

Bristol Sells Out Faster Than a Taylor Swift Concert

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Bristol, IN — once the proud home of corn dogs and questionable driving skills, where tractors occasionally outran sedans and turn signals were more of a suggestion than a rule, now finds itself as the proud new host of a power-hungry data center nobody asked for. The kind of place where Friday night entertainment meant spotting the new dent in your neighbor’s pickup is suddenly being rebranded as a "tech hub" — by people who still think TikTok is a clock app. What was once a sleepy town with charm, potholes, and the unmistakable smell of deep-fried dreams is now being fitted for a high-voltage crown it never wanted.

On September 19, 2024, the Bristol Town Council — ignoring a room full of angry residents who showed up with homemade signs, folded arms, and the kind of glares that could curdle milk — voted 4–0 (with one abstention, shoutout Dean Rentfrow for keeping his dignity) to rezone 240 acres of peaceful, generational farmland so Big Tech could plop down a giant server farm no one outside of a shareholder meeting asked for. The decision was made in under an hour, sandwiched between a motion to repave Maple Street and a brief argument about who stole someone’s lunch from the town hall fridge. Locals begged for answers, but council members apparently mistook passionate public concern for background noise — possibly because some were too busy texting or wondering if the server farm would have a drive-thru.

Leading the parade of questionable judgment was Doug DeSmith, who once tried to fix a pothole with leftover mashed potatoes. Doug also reportedly thinks a "data center" is where you go to print out grocery coupons, which explains a lot. Fun fact: he owns three "World's Best Negotiator" mugs — all purchased by himself.

Next up, Cathy Burke. Cathy enthusiastically voted yes, possibly under the impression she was approving a new Arby’s. She believes a "server farm" literally grows servers next to cornfields. Cathy also proudly lists "Professional Eyeroller" as her second job — a skill she no doubt perfected while residents begged her to listen.

Gregg Tuholski brought his own brand of wisdom to the table. Gregg once asked if the data center could double as a giant bounce house on weekends. He once filed a noise complaint... against a cloud. And after approving this deal, he declared the expected electric bill spike was "worth it for the vibes."

Rounding out the fantastic four is Jeff Beachy, who bragged about “bringing tech jobs” to Bristol, despite the fact the only thing working inside a data center is the air conditioning. Jeff reportedly Googled “what is a data center” after the vote was already over. Sources close to reality say he probably still thinks Elon Musk is building it personally.

Meanwhile, the lone abstention came from Dean Rentfrow, who apparently decided he didn’t feel like gift-wrapping Bristol’s farmland for Big Tech. Respect.

What could possibly go wrong now?

Electric bills are about to get swole — and not the fun kind that comes from lifting weights, but the kind that makes you consider heating your house with a candle and a prayer.

Traffic is going to explode faster than a microwaved corn dog left in for "just one more minute" — because nothing says progress like a convoy of utility trucks clogging up Main Street while your GPS screams in confusion.

Bristol’s small-town charm? Left somewhere under a pile of zoning paperwork, buried beneath buzzwords like “innovation corridor” and “smart infrastructure,” never to be seen again unless you dig through a city planner’s LinkedIn profile. The town that once prided itself on friendliness and fried food is now gearing up for rolling blackouts and the sweet hum of industrial-grade server fans.

Of course, town officials are calling it "progress."

Because nothing says forward-thinking like handing over your farmland to a company whose idea of community outreach is a press release and a badly laminated flyer.

Translation: You get $400 power bills, and they get their names etched on a tiny plaque nobody will ever read — probably mounted in a lobby you’re not allowed into, behind a security desk staffed by a robot. While you’re trying to figure out how to keep the lights on during peak hours, they’ll be posing for ribbon-cutting photos and pretending they didn’t just sell out your zip code for a lukewarm LinkedIn endorsement.

Meanwhile, the Bristol Corn Dog Festival might want to update their slogan to:

"Celebrating a Town That Got Rolled — No Bun Needed."

Once a wholesome gathering of deep-fried joy and questionable talent show entries, the festival now feels more like a support group with funnel cakes. Locals used to come for the food, the music, and the neighborly small talk — now they come to vent about electric bills and wonder if the data center will cast a permanent shadow over the corn dog stand. The only thing getting skewered this year might be the town's sense of identity.

BSW reached out to several residents after the vote, and here's what they had to say — between eye rolls, generator shopping, and muttering “unbelievable” under their breath:

"I just wanted more corn dogs. I didn’t ask for rolling blackouts."

— Gary R., still trying to finish a sandwich during the town meeting, possibly the last peaceful bite he'll ever have before the surge protectors start melting

"Bristol: Come for the corn dogs, stay for the power surges!"

— Seen duct-taped to a telephone pole near downtown, presumably by someone who’s already accepted chaos as a lifestyle

"I'm thinking about putting solar panels on my cow."

— Linda M., innovator and survivor, who may have just invented the next phase of rural tech startups

"First they came for our land, next they'll want our fried Oreos."

— Earl J., part-time farmer, full-time realist, currently digging a bunker behind his barn just in case

"At this point, I just hope the data center has free Wi-Fi."

— Cheryl D., buffering in real life, who’s pretty sure her smart TV now gets better signal from the cows than her router

Corn dogs built this town. Corporate greed just bought it.