YSaC, Vol. 781: We’ll build our house and chop our wood …
Free Corn to Farmer
We are putting in a bike trail through a corn field for the city and need a corn field cleared out. Free corn to whom ever will drive their farm “thing” through it.
Call Kevin xxx-xxxx
Okay, leaving aside the obvious, which is that (a) someone must have planted the corn, which means that (2) they probably own the corn field, which means that (III) they probably already have a farm “thing” that will clear out the corn, and (D) the person who owns the field and the corn might have been growing this corn with the goal of some kind of monetary compensation for the act of growing it, and (Ε) they might actually want their own corn after it’s cleared out rather than having these yahoos give it away to someone else …
Huh. If you leave those pesky obvious things aside, then this post makes complete sense. I’ll be right back, with corn for everyone!
Thanks, Carey!
Why are there cornfields near a city? The poster specifically said the path was for the city, so maybe the cornfields are in the city…which is dumb. Other than that snark, I have snarkers-cramp.
My serious answer: Corn grows anywhere, city or country, and many cities have co-op gardens. It’s possible that the corn from one of these gardens grew beyond it’s boundries. Corn is an invasive species if not tended properly.
My not so serious answer: Knowing that pigeons are often called city chickens, perhaps city corn is not corn at all, but something far worse found on city streets.
Homeless people?
I was thinking along the line of “road apples.”
How’d we get from pidgins to horses?
Catmath, of course!
Corn invasive? I don’t think so. The closest I can get to that is you will see what I call ‘volunteer’ corn in a bean field. Volunteer corn happens when a field was planted with corn one year and another crop the next. The spillage from harvesting is where the volunteers come from.
Ya, I like scented candles. No, I’m not gay. Owned.
I’m thinking it’s one of two things. Either the poster doesn’t own the land and is being a jerk or the “city” expropriated the land and now needs it cleared. I’m voting for the former as this is CL and not a municipal site.
I have a vote for Sparqi is on some volunteer project (this path will be a beautiful, butterfly-laden, ADA-compliant “gift” to the City, Surprise! City, Surprise!).
Another vote for Sparq is flat out lost. And discovered corn growing were the new Park is “supposed” to be (dood, them brownies, we shudda kealnt the kitchen!)
It might just be the eight hours of Forensic Files I watched yesterday talking, but I’m picturing a serial killer who can’t find his favorite dump site and needs a helping hand.
Damn true crime shows.
The farmer has a “thing,”
The farmer has a “thing,”
Hi ho the derry-o,
The farmer has a “thing.”
Didn’t we cover “things” on Saturday?
Or was it someone had an idea for covering “things” on Saturday?
Well, SJ, you sort of beat me to it, but I was thinking that a farm “thing” was probably a “Farmer -in-the-Dell” costume.
What was it the farmer was doing “in the dell”?
If we want irony, then he was syncing his iPod with his new Macbook.
I just heard on NPR’s Business Daily that farmers are tweeting the condition of their crops and possible yield, and investors in commodities are tracking those sort of things. Pretty soon, tiny transmitters will be planted near the corn, and will broadcast conditions and ripeningness daily.
Windrose is this close to what you were thinking of http://www.thinkgeek.com/gadgets/electronic/add2/ ?
It came to mind as soon as you talked about the fields tweeting for themselves.
Sparkly, OMGZ! The future is here now! It’s a Trap! *hands out foil beanies*
Sparkly, My dentist had one of those.
He called it Audrey II.
Feeed meee.
[farm equipment corey] Spark may be confused in how the get-in-touch-with-nature-winding-bike-n-pedestrians-all-get-along wide path mar be harder to achieve with an 8′ wide farm tractor.
And harder still if this farming is west of the Mississippi, where disk furrow run to 10, 15, 20 rows wide. And a small corn combine is 10 rows wide.
Sparq needs to stop warching scoobydo with the pipe out and watch Modern Marvels to see how large corn harvest equipment really is.
[/corey]
Velma *unmasks the monster* It was Mr.Jenkins all along!
Mr.Jenkins: And I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you rotten kids.
Jinkies
“Jinkies?” What is that.. some kind of breakfast cereal?
Yes, it’s what Scooby Doo has in the morning.
I thought he had “New! From Rule 34 Productions: Shaggy-Os!”
I’ll go sit in the corner and await punishment from the Good Sister*.
*Assuming “she’s” not actually wielding a scythe in a cornfield.
Astro, The good sister is a new commenter, s/he made the rookie mistake of posting the wrong picture/name combination a couple weekends ago.
Although, now that I think about it, Sister’s alter-ego was called “tamaleillusion.” Somewhat suspicious that we’d have two Mexican entrees with mystic powers.
At first I thought “tamaleillusion” was TacoMagic sneaking in on the weekend incognito. I’m still not sure that the Sister is a new commenter and not a regular’s sock puppet.
Astro, there’s a new ScoobyDoo cartoon where Shaggy and Velma are dating. It’s kind of weird to me. Especially the episode where she made him wear tight pants.
I mean…. uh… I’m totally too old to watch cartoons*
*still watches cartoons
Who ever it is, it’s both tamale and Sister:
http://www.yousuckatcraigslist.com/?p=5179#comment-60524
Silva – I’m too old to watch cartoons, too. It’s not like I spent my day off yesterday watching Astro Boy and Darkwing Duck.*
*I watched Darkwing Duck, then Astro Boy.
Derriere?
(That’s been bouncing around my head all day, I needed to let it out.)
Camille’s derriere has been bouncing around in your head all day?
I suppose there are worse things.
Wait… just because it’s a CORN field, that doesn’t mean the corn is perfectly ripe and ready for picking(or ‘driving over with a thing’)! Who says it’s been taken care of/watered/hasn’t gone by/etc.? When you go to a corn maze, can you reach over and freely pick corn? Not at the ones I’ve been to!
Plus, do I really have to have a farm thing, or can I pick by hand? Just some thoughts over homestyle tofu for breakfast.
[maise maze corey]Cornfield mazes are usually cut well after the corn has been harvested so no, there wouldn’t be any corn left on the stalks. [/corey]
[corn corey]It’s maize, not maise.[/corey]
Oops, I didn’t even catch that. Doesn’t matter though, my phone doesn’t allow edits.
Here in California, I managed a pumpkin patch/corn maze every October for a few years. The owner cut the maze in when the corn was about knee to thigh high (probably a bit higher than the normal range because he was 6’7″ tall). It was planted with cow corn which we then chopped up into silage for cows the first of November. The corn ears were never harvested. We did have “mazers” who took an ear or two home to eat. They usually only did that once because the corn tasted just awful.
I ate silage on a dare once. In my defense, I was about 8 years old.
Depending on how long it had been fermenting, christina, you could have been one looped 8-year-old.
Forgive my lack of farming knowledge, it was still on the cob, but raw and used for cattle feed. My friend, whose parents owned the farm, convinced me, the kid who only ever saw grass in parks, that the corn they grew was turned into candy corn.
Did they also tell you that cows give white milk and bulls give chocolate milk? That’s always been a favorite.
Yeah, a person has to be on the hard-knocks side of po’ to cook field corn, which is not grown for sugar content ([corn corey]it is also bread to not ferment quite so much; but that is also dependant on the weather conditions [/corey]).
“Silage corn” around these parts is what you sell if it stops raining before your field corn ripens.
Out here, an agent to help with the fermenting process as well as to up nutritional value is added to the silage as they pack it in pits. Or it’s bagged, if the rancher doesn’t want any additives. The bags look like HUGE white worms (on average 10′ diameter) running parallel to each other.
Looking back over my comments, I probably should have sprinkled [corey] tags throughout. Do so at your leisure. With the exception of the milk one…or maybe that one needs a [farmer humor corey] tag.
I at least had enough sense to know that bulls do not produce milk.
And duh, everyone knows brown cows make chocolate milk! 😉
And pink cows make strawberry milk!
Pink cows get a visit by the v-e-t, usually followed quickly thereafter by the County Ag Extension agent and his ilk . . .
I’m guessing this is one of those feral cornfields we keep hearing so much about – you turn your back for a few months and then BAM! there they are, just silently, sinisterly swaying. Once those bastards make it into our inner cities we’re doomed, I tell you…
The harvest is in full swing in my neck of the woods, and I solemnly promise that every time I see a combine from here on out I’m going to yell “Look – FARM THING!!!”
Now I have The Troggs in my head.
Farm Thing, I think I love you,
but I gotta know for sure,
Come on and harvest my corn…
I love you!
Farm Thing, you move me!
IT’S A CLEANING FRENZY!
A week ago, I believe these same dudes were trying to clean a buddy’s kitchen. Now they’ve appropriated a corn lot. Picture the bike ramps, and the X Games they’re planning! No promise of weed for the farmer after he runs his “farm thing”, but perhaps a bargain could be struck.
Perhaps the weed is hidden among the corn stalks and that’s the real reason they need the field cleared. Possibly, it’s a trap!
I’m told that other crop is hand-harvested from between the rows before the combines roll out. Have heard a rumor that the harvesters call such corn “skip-rowed.”
“No… you’re right, Ed. A parachute not opening… that’s a way to die. Getting caught in the gears of a COMBINE… having your nuts bit off by a Laplander, that’s the way I wanna go! ”
Ed’s back!
I’ve missed Ed’s fabulous hat.
We send sailors to a version of Skaran Perdition called Great Lakes Training Station where they are taught how to properly roll their hats.
I vote ‘Skaran Perdition’ as death-metal band name of the day.
Head-Bang-Ulate?
Rock-U-Late?
Bang-Yur-Pate?
How would a Dalek rock out anyway?
Emotionless-ly. However, although they lack the neck required for headbanging, they throw their eye-stalks in the air like they just don’t care (which they really don’t).
Long time no seeum, Ed. *waves*
We’ve missed you, Ed! How was Soviet Russia?
Good, another squid. Were the winds fair and the seas following?
Ed! Happy Labor Day! Happy to have you here, that’s for sure. 8)
All these crazy schools to which the Feds have been sending me have interfered with my web surfing schedule.
All is forgiven for the correct use of “whom”.*
*This may not be entirely true.**
**Ok, it’s not true at all, but at least this poster got something right.***
***Actually, that makes it more scary.
What exactly is the correct use of “Whom” vs. “Who”? None of my English teachers have ever explained that, and I’m a bit unclear about it.
Use “whom” whenever you want to sound high-fallutin’. All other times use “who”.
A door with a bold and brassy knocker for your high-fallutin’ reference, Bianchi. 🙂
However, here’s a better test for you to use, Astro.
Use “who” if you can substitute he, she, they, I or we.
Use “whom” if you can substitute him, her, them, me or us.
You may have to reorder the words in the sentence for it to make sense, but generally it works.
Edit: Kudos to Camille for giving you examples. You have no excuse to get it wrong again, Astro!
Forgive my earlier explanation. The difference between “who” and “whom” is a hard on to explain.
Bianchi once again proves the penis mightier than the sword.
Margarine
Vintage Crisco.
Use “who” where you would use another pronoun that is the subject of the sentence – he, she, they. Use “him” where you would use another pronoun that is the object – him, her, they.
So:
Whom should I hire to cut a path through the corn field? I should hire HIM.
But:
Who is the moron who placed this ad? HE is the moron.
If it sounds funny when you replace the “whom” with “him,” you probably shouldn’t be using “whom.”
So, whom is objective, who is subjective? Okay, then.
Astro, that is exactly correct.
Well, you learn something new every day! Thanks guys, now I can impress my APLAC teacher with my mad grammaticalness.*
*this is now a word.
Who is generally collective, and whom generally singular.
Thus “For whom the bell tolls” refers to a specific person being lamented, even though the bells are tolled for all to hear.
Leave it to Capn to evoke Hemingway. He always uses the big guns.
Actually, it was Python’s fault, Dung went to Donne, and thus
No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manner of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
Huh – I always thought that “For whom the bell tolls” meant it was your turn to answer the door.
No, that’s “For Whom the Domino’s Tolls”
But shouldn’t “whomever” be a single word?
Probably. I didn’t say the poster got *everything* right. This is CL, after all.
Yeah, but since this is a Sparqi, they “fail” here in that corn harvesting usually requires more than one person. Even a one-row Truck garden works better with two.
Actually, the CL poster didn’t use “whom” correctly. It breaks down like this: normally, whom would be correct as the object of a preposition except that in this case the object of the preposition is a clause, not a single word. Whom in the CL post is functioning as the subject of the clause “whom ever will drive,” and is therefore incorrect. It should be “free corn to whoever will drive…”
Also, @ CapnMac: “Who is generally collective, and whom generally singular.” This [i]may[/i] be statistically true (or not, I don’t really feel like checking), but I’d be hesitant to cite it as a rule for fear of causing unneeded confusion of what is really a rather simple grammatical mechanic.
I’d like to hear this develop further with a whole new sub-plot in The Archers.
*British corey*
The Archers , an everyday story of country-folk, has been broadcast by BBC Radio since 29th May 1950 (pilot broadcast). With more than 16,000 episodes, it is both the world’s longest running radio soap and, since the axing of the American soap opera Guiding Light in September 2009, the world’s longest running soap opera in any format. Its 15 minutes every day!
“How did the programme start?
In Whit Week 1950, the BBC’s Midlands Home Service broadcast five pilot episodes of a new, experimental drama series: The Archers. The producer Godfrey Baseley had previously worked mainly on agricultural programmes. He hoped that farmers would listen for the stories, but along the way pick up messages that would help them feed a Britain still subject to food rationing. ”
*British corey ends*
[fangirl corey] Yay doors for Archers reference! The theme song always makes me think of my mum and long cross-country trips in Angle-land. 🙂 Plus, Tamsin Greig’s on it and, as I adore her muchly, anything she does is awesomesauce to me. [/fangirl corey]
Children of the Corn X
A Story By Astrognash, With Apologies to Steven King
Sparky and Luxury Woman, his new bride, were moving from Ish to [Location] to start their new life selling organic, DDT treated word salad. There were just over the Indiana border when it happened.
Thump
Sparky slammed on the breaks, and turned to Luxury Woman. He said, “Dahlin’, what’d’you think that was?”
His wife said, “Well, Sparks, I do not know. Why doncha go check it out?”
So, Sparky got out of the car, and walked behind it to see what they’d hit. He let out a yell of surprise. They’d hit what appeared to be a large Afroman Dummy. Sparky called, “L, get out here with that Ice Cream! I hit a Afroman!” Luxury Woman rushed outside with the vat of Vintage Crisco Ice Cream for the Dummy, and had to fight back the urge to barf when she saw it.
“Sparky, that thing’s been dead for weeks. No amount of Ice Cream can help him now,” she said.
Sparky’s face gained a worried look, and he said, “But… if we bring in the body to the nearest town… the police might think it’s us! Then they might throw us in The Room, and leave us to die! Quick, L, help me get him in the trunk!”
So Luxury Woman and Sparky shoved Afroman into the trunk, and, leaving their Ice Cream on the road, sped off for [Location]. However, no sooner had they reached the quaint little town of Qatlin than they ran out of gas.
“Well durnit!” said Sparky. “I’ll just have to go get some gas.”
Sparky got out of the car, and headed to the gas station.
“Golly gee,” he said, “$.50 a gallon? What kind of town is this?”
Sparky began to head in to pay the requisite vintage cereals, but found the door locked and all the lights out. No one was inside, and the windows were smashed. Thinking a terrible crime must have been committed, he headed to the police station, where he was greeted with an eerily similar situation. As a last resort, Sparky headed into the Church, which, of all the town’s buildings, was well-maintained.
“Holy Llamanun,” whispered Sparky, crossing himself, as he entered the church. It had been vandalized like nobody’s business. The pews were overturned, graffiti of cereal grains covered the walls, and the effigy of Clothespin Jeebus had been replaced with an image of a demonic sex-crazed doll. Nervously groping about, Sparky’s hand came to rest on the church’s ledger, listing the dates of birth and death for the town. As he read the list, he began to notice something very strange. All the names had been changed to biblical names, such as Corey, Matt, Craig, and Marge. And even worse, all the dates suggested that nobody in town had lived beyond nineteen.
‘What kind of town is this?‘ Sparky thought. But his thoughts were interrupted by a scream from outside.
“Luxury Woman! I’m comin’, baby!” he yelled as he burst out of the church. The car was surrounded by beings only about three feet high, with pitchforks and scythes. One broke through the car window, and Luxury Woman’s screams were cut short.
Then the beings turned toward Sparky. He gasped in horror. It was a short old man with a wicked bite to his sense of humor. Another turned around. It was that man’s daughter. As they all turned, each one looked like one of the first two. Sparky screamed, and turned and ran. Right into the cornfield.
Sparky was scared stiff when he stopped, thinking he had lost his attackers, when he noticed something very strange. It was silent. Usually corn has insect and bird life, but not this field. Sparky noticed something on the ground. A letter, addressed “To Whomever it May Concern”. He picked it up and read it.
Sparky didn’t waste any time running. None at all. As he ran, he passed the skeletal corpses of the town’s residents, which served to spur him onward through the cornfield. But it was in vain. The malevolent force in the corn caused him to trip. He rolled over, and the children of the corn were standing over him. A Grampdaddy raised his scythe, and Sparky screamed as it went through his chest, impaling his heart. He lost all will to fight back as the children dragged him back towards the heart of the cornfield, and, as the world went black around him, a thought entered his mind. It was alien in nature, because he did not think it.
‘Now you are of the Corn, too.‘
You never need to apologize to Stephen King. Your short story is far better than anything he has produced in the last few years anyway.
Not that I am bitter or anything.
You apparently haven’t read “Under the Dome” which I would rate with his best books ever. It includes some of his best character creations ever, including those in “The Stand” and his 7 book Gunslinger “trilogy.”
Also, “Duma Key” was more than passable.
I have not. I will tomorrow though, so thanks for the heads up! The Stand and the Gunslinger epic are some of my favorites. Duma Key, not so much. To me, just another of Steve’s tales of inanimate object coming to life and surprise, surprise – is evil and must be destroyed.
Indeed, Under the Dome was quite good. My favorite King novel is Insomnia, although The Stand comes in a close second. As far out as he can get sometimes, the angels of purpose and of random strike a chord with me.
I personally liked Cell. It was the first book by Stephen King that I ever read.
The first King book I ever read was The Shining, which terrified me more than the movie (scary in it’s own right) ever could have.
I’m a huge fan of his short stories more than his gighugic novels because I think that’s where he really shines (pun intended). It takes a lot of talent to weave a lucid tale that makes a grown woman sleep with the lights on in 20-30 pages.
Epic win, Astro, epic win *virtual high five*
This would make a fabulous movie–add it to the queue of YSaC films to produce. Holy Clothespin Jeebus, we could make our own company!
And excellent use of “whomever.”
As a fan of Stephen King (own all his books plus those of Bachman), I can state unequivocally, this was the sauce of awesome with a heap of fantasmagoric thrown in, Astro. Bravo!
Brazilian elebenty adores!
Aw, but Grampdaddies are lovers, not fighters. I’ve got a costume of a corn-stalk to prove it. You know how tall the corn gets here in Indiana??
What??
Knee deep?
Lalalala – I’m not listening. Someone pass the brain bleach and a spork so I can gouge my eyes out.
There’s more to Indiana than corn! CAW!!! CAW!!!!
Seriously? Really? Corn fields already freak me out enough (for real) but now I have to imagine little hellspawn with my facial features in there coming after people. Holy hell, Astro!
Well done! Now please, for the love of Clothespin Jeebus don’t EVER do that again!
Ah, the joys of stalks knee-high to the sky, seemingly stationary, yet swishing with the stronger breezes. And rustling noises. And spooky shadows, since there’s only light along the rows, not through them. Oh, and serrated razor sharp leaves when rubbed the wrong way.
About the only other field crop that scary fully grown is sugar cane, and for similar reasons. The difference being that a quarter-acre of corn can be spooky-eveil; takes an acre of cane.
Cap’n, that was just mean! :p
Dang, I have the hugest hankering for corn roasted in its own husk with some ribs.
Hallelaujh! I needed this-you’re my savior.
Yep, that pretty much sums it up for me. Always seems there’s something moving just out of the corner of my eye. Was it just the wind moving the leaves or something else? WAHHHHHHHHH!
I could have just been Mr. Winkey sleeping off a bender.
Margarine?
Then there’s the alligators in Michigan.
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jg0vwMHMjiqfQuaoktb5dK1-abmwD9I0KN600
*snark snark snark*
Oh so hungover…
Actually, better than I was when I first woke up, now that I’ve had some coffee and toast. And Gatorade. Gatorade is my magic hangover cure. But I’m still not quite up for snark. I’ll be back later.
I’m right there with you, Bridgete. Drink plenty of water.
Have a glass of milk. Then you can get your thiamine back on track.
Huh, I’ve never heard that one. Although I don’t like drinking milk straight like that.
That’s why The Dude drinks White Russians.
You’ll be needing some dog of the hare that bit you, then.
No, wait, it’s HHNF that has the bunny–dang it!
Chinese food – or anything with eggs. Personal favorite is egg drop soup. Don’t know why, but it always works for me. Hope you’re recovery is swift!
Ah, concur with that. Hit the buffet up with a good mix of carbs and protien, washed down with a quart or two of iced tea.
Our Darling Bridgete – A J.D. who met a bar she couldn’t pass?
Turned out that laying on the beach at the Cape was all I needed. 😉
But yes, Chinese food is one of my favorite cures.
Couldn’t the poster and a couple of friends acquire some planks, attach them to rope and clear the path themselves? I hear it is all the rage in the UK.
Of course, the trail would then just go round and round and round and round and round and round and round and…
OH GOD, THE ALIENS HAVE FOUND ME! *curls up in corner with tinfoil hat*
Hey, wait a minute, what am I afraid of? I’m supreme!
Oh no you’re not.
*a challenger appears*
Place your bets, folks! Supreme Ruler vs Dalek in a tutu.
*Peanuts! Popcorn! Cotton Candy! Beer here!*
My money’s on the tutu’d Dalek – anything which can dress so ridiculously has to be packing some serious aggression and craziness under the tulle.
I think Laurel will
EX-TER-MINATE!
Supreme Ruler.
Smiles beatifically and holds Dalek spinning under one finger – hm hm hm – can’t touch that.
Ya know, Sparky doesn’t specify a particular corn field, only that he needs “a corn field” cleared because the city is putting a bike trail through “a corn field.” I imagine this to be the court room defense when Farmer A drives his “thing” over to Farmer B’s field and clears a few obscene crop circles into it.
I’ll apologize in advance for any corny joke I might make today. If you don’t like them, please don’t stalk me, just let me know, I’m all ears.
I’ll probably get creamed, too. There’s a kernel of truth to that. Time to hit the silk, it’s hard to combine jokes. I’ll just climb back in the hole.
It’s getting pretty seedy around here. Almost as if you folks were plants. Are you shilling for the farmer?
Thanks for the kernel of wisdom Christina.
A-maizing
Shucking a-maizing!
Aw shucks!
Where the Farm Things are!
The night Sparky wore his John Deer suit and made mischief of one kind and another.
His mother called him “Farm Thing!”
And Sparky said, “I’ll bale you up!!”
So he was sent to the barn without any fuel.
That very night in Sparky’s barn, corn grew, and grew, and grew until the ceiling hung with ears, and the walls became the field all around and an ocean tumbled by with a private ferry, and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the Farm Things are!
When he came to the place where the Farm Things are they roared their diesel roars! And gnashed their combine teeth! And rolled their terrible tires! And showed their terrible thrashers!
Till Sparky said, “be still!” and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their headlights without using his turn signals once, and they were frightened and called him the most terrible Farm Thing of all and made him king of all Farm Things.
Sparky said, “And now, let the wild harvest start!!
Now, stop!” and sent the Farm Things off to the barn without their fuel….and Sparky, the king of all Farm Things said, “I’m lonely!”And wanted to be where the corn was best of all, then, all around, from far away, across the world he smelled good things to harvest!!
So he said, “I’ll give up being king of where the Farm Things are, but the Farm Things cried “Oh, please don’t go, we’ll bale you up we love you so” and Sparky said, “No!”
The Farm Things roared their diesel roars and gnashed their combine teeth and rolled their terrible tires and showed their terrible thrashers.
But Sparky stepped into his private ferry and honked good-bye and sailed back, almost over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day and into the night to his own barn, where he found his fuel waiting for him. Sparky, said “and it was high octane!”
Well, yeah, duh! Real farmers drive either blue or red “things”; only showboats drive green [g]
New Holland Rules!
A-door-able, Hammy.
A brazillian and one doors, Hammy! Love, love, love it!
Why can’t Sparky just sign up for Facebook, download Farmville, plant his own corn and periodically wipe it out as he sees fit?
This way, he gets his bike path, corn gets destroyed and every farmer’s “thing” remains intact. Win, win, win.
…and still no Lola. Hopefully, she is on holiday. I hope I did not scare her off.
Depends, did you opt for the ballerina or ninja costume? Word on the street is, she’s partial to puppies.
*Wags*
Do NOT rub the puppy’s belly!
*Wags more, rolls over and whimpers*
Astro gets out Beggin Strips, throws one as far as he can and yells, “Go get it, boy!”
One little rub can’t hurt, right? I swear to Spice Christ if this is a penis in a puppy costume you’re a dead Ham.
Manda, look at the expression on the puppy’s face. If that’s not a trap then I don’t know a lion from a tiger.
Don’t kiss the puppy’s belly button, either….
Party pooper 😛
Damn you EB!
O:-D
Margarine.
Didn’t I answer this already?
Mustard.
No fair! My pups are all rescues so I never got to take cute smooshy puppeh pictures of them. Every time I think I’ve got a good one, Hammy out-cutes me.
Hi everyone, I’m new and I didn’t know where else to say hi. Can I join in on the fun?
Hi! Of course you can join the fun! Watch out for the margarine though, HanCan’s left it everywhere.
Not everywhere, only in
inappropriate spotsHi odv! Of course you can join in. It’s kinda late for the general commentors. Some are still awake, I’m just here to punch somebody. 8) Be sure to keep coming back. Also have fun reading the archives and the forum.
Astro! Happy Labor Day in the Don’t Suck Box! Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, Iowa!
*click*
Sigh.
hahahahahahaha
“farm thing”
The entire premise = engrossing
Wow, gratuitous Bernstein quote for the win! Who else here knows Candide?
Field corn or sweet corn? If it’s sweet corn, then I’ll be right over with my farm thing.