Hmm. Not exactly what sort of “farm” this is. They appear to be farming the Internet, mostly. I guess that makes you and me ruminant animals. You know what happens to them on a farm.  I can’t lay any eggs, either, so I might be in even more trouble.

But surely I quibble. Or Shirley I quibble, maybe. I don’t know Annie Oakley Sunglasses’s name. I don’t know where she’s from, either, but it does seem awful hot wherever it is. I’ve been to the equator, and people wear more clothes there than she does, so she must live on Mercury or something.

We could look for further clues about her whereabouts, I suppose. It seems like it might be a dangerous place. She’s always ready to throw down with whatever’s at hand. Me, I split wood with an axe. It never occurred to me to throw it, except while cursing after I hit my ankle with it from a glancing blow. Man, does that smart, and I’m wearing Red Wing boots. I don’t think those are even Red Wing flip-flops she’s wearing.

Well, it’s all a mystery. I have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t really care to investigate further. I have nothing bad to say about the proceedings, or much good either. It does seem a bit of a shame, however, that someday this woman’s husband is going to have to look at his son and say, “You’re only half the man your mother used to be.”