Upon pulling into the parking lot of the national park often previously used to shoot Hollywood Westerns, visitors were greeted by Paul McCarthy’s now infamous, post-seasonal gigantic Gumby Green inflatable butt plug, presented by LA’s own The Box. The art world is obsessed with Instagram, the glamour and glitter of the city endorses spontaneous selfie shoots, and this spectacular sculpture provided an immediate premature ejaculation for anyone willing to engage in this suggested and suggestive masturbatory activity.

Coasting and carousing along through the dusty trails of the patinated set, sex and sexuality in varied forms proved to be a consistent theme. Matthew Linde’s Melbourne-based but roving project, Centre For Style, presented four panels and a custom table by Chloe Elizabeth Maratta. The decorative table is also of functional use by the artist’s feverish band, Odwalla88. The wall works were passive-aggressive sub-pop affirmations of brash young womanhood with just the right balance of supple elegance and eloquent scuzz. On the stage in the Sound Barn, New York’s Bodega displayed dangling casts of M-sized breasts by Hayley Silverman, hovering like packed bindles and proudly publicized like flags in the wind. A few steps away, the gallery’s Lower Manhattan neighbors, Shoot The Lobster, had fabric collage works by Claire Barrow and Reba Maybury entwined in an exuberant punk rock prayer circle jerk, espousing phrases such as “NOSTALGIA AS SEXUAL PLEASURE” as values on their surfaces.

Further down the barn, Freddy of Baltimore shone as one of the iconic highlights of the fair. The snarky booth, featuring Puppies Puppies donning a Krueger costume and hoisting a picket sign which read “THE END IS NEAR,” a handful of seductively sinister snakes by Jashin Friedrich resting on bales of hay, and a selection of paintings by Peter Eide. One particularly brazen painting of Eide’s entitled Fuck Josh, depicted Freddy fucking the painter Joshua Abelow, the proprietor of the gallery, and continued on with the aforementioned NC-17 vibes. Abelow, known for his self-deprecating egotistical artist persona, could be seen regularly chuckling away at his not-so-inside joke.

There was certainly more than just bodily humor flowing, but at this weekend-long event few people took themselves too seriously. Other fun offerings included Danny McDonald’s agit pop stage props at Maccarone, E’wao Kagoshima’s kooked-out figure drawings at Algus Greenspon, Brendan Fowler’s stadium-stitched drapes at Richard Telles, Mark A. Rodriguez’s mischievous flower faces at Park View, and the boldly spirited art activism of Asco, presented in the form of photo works hung up high in the Train Depot by Paradise Garage. The latter would be (and was) an especially refreshing inclusion at an art fair of any kind, even one as free and loose as this one. This often overlooked Chicano collective has been sporadically recognized for their attempts to link art and existence without involving institutions, necessitating degrees-, or requiring specialized vernacular. Instead, they give a wink and a nudge, implying an openness and acceptance to the way that other more ubiquitous forms of art- film, literature and music- arguably (can) do.

Perhaps the main deficiency of the art world is its oppressive resistance to populism. For this reason, Paradise Garage deserve a high five and a thumbs up for exhibiting a group that has put real energy into trying to encourage inclusivity in one of the most exclusive, niche industries in the world. In fact, a general tip of the hat ought to be made to Pentti Monkonnen and Liz Craft of Paradise Garage, as well as to Alex Freedman and Robbie Fitzpatrick of Freedman Fitzpatrick, for their overall efforts with this temporary, perennial project.

This is a fair though, after all, so collectors were present, and some of the international power names were spotted for sure. But this isn’t the type of fair where the hilariously shrewd and sassy Kenny Schachter could or would probably have much fun gossiping. The fair honestly feels much more like a music festival. But instead of having indie rock bands that get too wasted to take the stage or shitty jam bands that play on for at least an hour too long, the creators and producers have continued to invite a few bigger names, such as dépendance of Brussels and König Galerie of Berlin, to headline the weekend. They have then, once again, rounded it out with a corral of hip, young galleries from around the world. And as with the past two editions, they brought together enormous enterprises like 356 Mission / Ooga Booga with folks organizing shows in apartments (Del Vaz Projects) or houses (Reserve Ames); they even included spaces that don’t actually have physical locations yet, such as this year’s Bel Ami, which will hopefully find its home here in LA in no time and will be operated and programmed by Naoki Sutter-Shudo and Sabrina Tarasoff (formerly of Shanaynay in Paris). In contrast with the relaxed interactions between artists, dealers, and otherwise, the number of literal active performances seemed significantly reduced this year. However, if you did want to do yoga on Saturday afternoon, Charles Irvin was available to get you and your dogs as downward as he was able to go.

Sadly, the piss-soaked pants of the anemic illustrated individual serving as the logo for this edition proved to be a premonition, as Day 2 of Part 3 was waterlogged by the return of El Niño. But fortunately, it didn’t seem to put too much of a damper on the weekend. Rather, all the hungover participants blew off pampers, embraced the elements and poured regrets down the metaphorical drain like the fermented swill from the empty cans of the night before.

Whether Paramount Ranch retires as has been claimed it will, or the group gets back on stage for an encore, one thing should not be forgotten in the dark forest of bloated capitalism: Art ought to be fun, above all else. Even Stefan Simchowitz, the impudent self-mythologizing hype man, who has come to be seen as a Karate Kid villain to all of the young Danielsons of the art world and who appeared to be on a mission surrounded by his entourage of young French women with cameras, took some time to sit down and get a fresh buzz on his melon. Most of the other attendees were getting fresh buzzes in other ways, but a buzz is a buzz, and often times, the best buzzes don’t come in the form of listicles.

The third and final installment of Paramount Ranch art fair occurred on January 30-31 in Agoura Hills, California. It was a project by Liz Craft, Robbie Fitzpatrick, Alex Freedman and Pentti Monkkonen.

Keith J. Varadi is an artist and writer based in Los Angeles. In 2016 he will have solo exhibitions at Et al. , San Francisco; Cooper Cole , Toronto and Night Gallery , Los Angeles. For more information view his website .