Redneck Stonehedge
 

Odds the whining pussies are related to Levin and/or Mike Waters?

Whaaaaa....whaaaa....I built my 5000 ft^2 mcmansion and your farm makes it smell like poop! I want elk and gray wolves teaming in the fields as Bambi wistfully frolics around talking with my cherubic little ones...waaaaaaa!

You don't understand me.

Rarely does understanding someone help in insulting them. In fact more often than not purposely misunderstanding is beneficial.

Forget Redneck Stonehenge.

Let's talk about 18" Stonehenge....

In ancient times...
Hundreds of years before the dawn of history
Lived a strange race of people: the Druids
No one knows who they were or what they were doing
But their legacy remains
Hewn into the living rock....of Stonehenge

http://thecia.com.au/reviews/t/image...inal-tap-1.jpg

http://www.schemaweb.info/blogs/images/tap.jpg

I think it's hilarious.

Memo to stupid people: if you choose to live in a farming community, it's going to smell like a farming community.

Awesome. Several years ago a neighbor approached my grandfather and asked him to remove some "junk" off a hill on my grandfather's property (the junk being his functioning tractor and a half-dozen oil barrels.) The neighbor whined that it was spoiling his view. My grandfather responded as any red-blooded American would, which is to say he hired a couple of guys to haul ever bit of junk on his place and a couple of other people's places up onto the hill. Old buses, a twisted quonset hut, piles of rusty barbed wire, junked cars etc. etc.

You don't tell people in this part of the world what to do with their property.

Your Grandpa is my new hero. If my Grandpa had had a neighbor like that, his first question would have been "Why the hell are you looking at my property?"

This whole interchange reminds me of a game show I was recently watching: "Battle of the Low IQs: The Hunt for Glial Cells"

You make a good point. One would have to have a low IQ to think that folks live on a farm for the view.

A recently sent letter from the Fish & Wildlife Service to a certain Messr. Landpoke states, if I remember right, that your property has been designated as critical wildlife habitat for the northern gray wolf and eminent domain proceedings will be commenced within the fortnight.

You should start packing your bags now.

Here is what I love: "I'll show that guy....I will put MORE trash on my own property! ha ha......what a sucker that guy is....he sure is dumb...."

You have no rural blood in you, do you?

You're out of your depth here Cali.

Remember that people in that part of the country (or any other part of the country) also rarely let facts get in the way of a good story.

Are you calling me a liar?

I called you a good story teller. You got a problem with that?

Semantics.

I can't help it if I live in a magical world where interesting things happen.

Thus we agree. story telling = lying (but only if it is good).

No, no, a thousand times no. As you have questioned the cussedness of my dear departed grandfather I have no choice but to defend him.

Google Earth


44 degrees 31'50.76" North
107 degrees 46'15.76" West

It is, admittedly, a shadow of its former self, but there's still a goodly amount of junk there. Due north, down the tree lined lane, is the neighbor in question.

Geez, couldn't you have just sent me a link?

No, no I couldn't of.

So, your good Grandfather farmed dirt, I see. A true salt of the earth kind of guy.

He was more of a hobby dirt farmer, raising a little hay for his horses. His day job was in the oil patch.

Ok, oil is in your blood. I like to see family traditions carried on.

My grandpa had a lot of alfalfa and a lot of dirt. And lots and lots of milk.

Big Boobs Grandma, huh? As my dad likes to say, "A milky a day keeps the doctor away."

Funny, but no.

Grandpa had 400 cows.

Yowza, dairy farming is back breaking work today. I can't imagine what it was like back when you didn't just hook them up to the vacuums.

I knew I liked you for some reason, il Pad. My Gramps had 300 head. He died from accidentally stabbing himself in the thigh and being too stubborn to go to the doc. A blood clot got loose and killed him.

Grandma died at 3 AM one day, on her way to milk the cows for the 1,678,584th time in her life.

Although I do have to admit, I thank God daily that my Dad moved away from that place. I spent summers helping Granny milk the cows, and hated every minute of it. Mostly because I always got stuck shoveling the cow crap out of the holding pen twice a day.

Yes, it's the hardest I've ever worked in my life. Hooking the cows to the vacuums was bad enough, but making sure the grain bins were full for the cows to eat and cleaning out the holding pens sucked.

My parents would send me to work on the farm for disciplinary reasons as a teenager. Getting up at 3:00 AM was bad enough, but Grandpa's way of waking me up was just awful - the house was heated by a coal furnace and he'd just bang on the pipes with a wrench.

One thing it did do was make me appreciate just what my Grandpa did for a living. That is hard work - and he did it until he was too old to work, which was about 88 years of age. I never knew until he passed away that he had an MBA, but chose to do that kind of work. Remembering all this reminds me of just how much I suck.

It did have it's small perks, though. My Grandma used to skim cream off the top of the tank for our oatmeal in the morning. Tasty.

You are talking about cows milk, right?

I will always be jealous of fine men allowed to fondle secondary mammory glands for a living, albeit from the bovine species.

Just slap iodine on that tiddy and squeeze milk!