Farmers are a fickle lot. A while back I was driving to visit a friend who lived in the middle of East nowhere, and I saw a farmer standing out in the middle of a field. This usually isn’t something that would capture my attention, but it was getting late and he just seemed to be milling around in the middle of the field. I didn’t know what I make of it at first, so I pulled over to see if he was alright.

I usually don’t pull over to help people, but I ran over a group of cute furry critters about a mile back, so I needed to do something to even out my karma. I also needed to wash some of the blood and fur off my radiator grille.

The farmer didn’t seem to notice as I parked my car and started to approach him. He seemed distracted by whatever was in the distance. I hollered and waved to get his attention, and he gave a jovial wave and a short grunt to acknowledge my existence.

As I waked towards him I asked what he was doing out in the middle of the field. After a few seconds of mulling over the question the farmer replied:

“Well, mister — I’m trying to win a Nobel Prize!”

Seeing that the farmer was slightly less insane than I first expected, I decided to push my luck and inquire further:

“How are you going to do that?”

The farmer looked off into the distance and said, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, ’cause it’s a secret, but heard some fella say that they award Nobel Prizes to people who are out standing in their field.”