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Category: farming

Cute Factor 10, Mr. Sulu

Cute Factor 10, Mr. Sulu

Cute and delicious. It’s a shame that pigs are made of bacon, otherwise no one would eat something so adorable. They’d be like dogs, but bigger and meaner. You wouldn’t eat a puppy, and you wouldn’t eat a full-grown dog, but you would most certainly eat a pig. At least, I know that most of my readers wouldn’t be interested in eating a dog. It really is a shame that widdle piggies are made of food.

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Taters

Taters

Someone sneezed on the subway! I know, why don’t we chuck in this rat-race in the city and move to the sticks to grow our own food? How hard could it be, really? If we can write javascript add-ons for social media pages, we’re certainly smarter and more resourceful than some dopey farmer. All we need is an angel investor to buy us a small county in flyover country, purchase more rolling machinery than any European military currently fields, and most importantly, we need a website!

Let’s start with the website. It’s raining out.

The Sport of Kings (of the Hill)

The Sport of Kings (of the Hill)

Ah, America. Anything can be turned into a contest in the good old United States, and usually is. That’s a good thing, within limits.

America has bad contests here and there. There are competitive cooking shows, for instance. The format makes no sense, and the rules even less. If you really wanted to have a cooking contest, you’d time how long it takes a blowsy waitress to bring you that glass of water you asked for fifteen minutes ago, and a clean fork. But no one likes a countdown clock with infinity on it, so we have to settle for contestants who form soup into a tower and mix drinks with dry ice and coriander in them.

Beauty pageants are another thing I don’t get. I don’t care for their bizarro world ranking system. Since only women and men who aren’t interested in women watch them, the rules are bent to assure the selection of the girl voted least likely to steal a boyfriend. Sophia Loren once came in second in a beauty contest, for example. I’m sure the judges conferred and agreed that if they selected her, their wives wouldn’t show them so much as an ankle for a calendar year. So some non-threatening contestant was chosen, and all the women watching agreed that she was the true beauty of the bunch. She had an inner beauty, surely. See: Andie MacDowell for the prototype.

No true blue Americans don’t want competitive cooking shows. They want pie eating contests. And roto-tiller racing, of course. The sport of kings (of the hill).

Much Farming. Many Food

Much Farming. Many Food

Warning: This video is harrowing.

OK, that was a pretty bad joke. I apologize. But hey, the video’s cool. Guys growing stuff. Farming is still a grown up little boy activity. You get to bomb around in big machines. Unlike the highway, you make more money if you go faster, instead of getting a speeding ticket. There’s nothing to crash into.

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