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Vol. 38 March 7th, 2023
Pigs 1, Farmers 0
The Bacon Refuses To Be Brought Home
“Got any fainting goats?” The morning was fresh and bright at Sligh’s Feed and Supply swap meet.
I was delighted there really was such a store. I’m a city boy, getting used to the country. My outfit was carefully picked.
I still didn’t blend in.
There were rumors of “fainting goats”, who, if startled, fall over.
“Got any?”
“No, but I’ve got sleeping pigs.” The farmer laughed, and tried to sell me one.
“Lack of facilities” I muttered.
He mentioned bratwurst. “Easy to cook.”
I shoved my hands into my tan overcoat, unwilling to utter the loser words “I’m a vegetarian.”
Men who weren’t (‘round here they just call them “men”) backed up a trailer to load six porkers. The porkers had other ideas.
Us “two legs” gathered ‘round to watch the show. One pig loaded. Five refusing. Outside pig zipped back inside. The two legs gave up. They’d do a home delivery so the pigs couldn’t get loose.
I didn’t shout Animal Farm references. It was too sunny.
Book of the Week: Animal Farm
(George Orwell)
Overthrowing Men, farm animals set out to create the perfect society in this clever - and chilling - tale that grows more relevant by the day.
“Two legs bad, four legs good.”
(I can’t put an Amazon link here. Buy one at your local bookshop.)
Photo of the Week
Charming Cottage, Incredible Views!
Real Estate is hot for bees in the spring. The white box is a swarm trap, high in a tree, waiting for a colony to move in.
Happy Birthday, Maurice! (1875)
Ravel composed his music (Bolero, etc) with such care and precision that Stravinsky compared him to an expert Swiss watchmaker.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Try digging into some Stoic Philosophy. It was today in 161 AD that Marcus Aurelius became co-emperor of Rome. His words in Meditations reverberate even today.
“Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.”
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #124)
Howdy, folks! Previously on Dr. Electro: Miss Stella, a curious mix of all-knowing and soda pop trite, promises transit to Lady Wilkes. “I’m visiting her to read tea leaves. We’ll smuggle you over in the Tarot van.” Back east at Lady W’s, the two captured men are on the brink of a confession. Outside in the forgotten shed, a sinister presence lurks This is...
The Return of Dr. Electro - #18: Road Trip
Electro flicked one eye open. The coral sunrise matched the wall. Where am I? WHO am I? A clattering grew. He turned over. “Who are you looking at, buddy?” The ceramic elephant lamp didn’t answer. Electro blinked again. The ceramic elephant didn’t. The clattering reached a crisis point. The door gave way.
“Rise and shine! The mysteries of the universe await, and breakfast is on!”
Miss Stella was a morning person. Her guests, while not the genocidal dawn haters of Electro’s old boarding schoolmates, were not. Junior waved sleepily at the gang over a stack of pancakes. Walter managed a “Howdy”, Charlotte shot daggers at the orange juice, and Preacher’s head was bowed in the meditative state between prayer and cat nap. Miss Stella’s chatter was black coffee restorative, mingling with smell of maple. The French clock seemed to tick everyone awake, and at it’s third chiming, chairs were clattering and feet were moving to “the tarot van, Dearies.” It rang the hour in an empty house. A shadow moved on the window.
Electro, tuned to machines, sensed the crackle in the Tarot Van. He was still too groggy (and set in his ways) to realize it could tell him many things: the future, that it was the grandmother of the first hippie bus, and that Charlotte was vaguely charmed by his disheveled hair. Such is the curse of intellect, ego, and unwillingness to wake up quickly. He jostled along in sleepy ignorance, squinting at the bright morning. Someone asked Miss Stella about the moon.
***
As the gang and the van hurtled east, John and the second man sat down under the watchful eye of Lady Wilkes. “Yeah, Jimmy, look, it’s a new dawn outside - might as well be one for us, too.” John rubbed his beard, rubbed his eyes, and slumped forward.
“We know a guy. Handyman stuff got a little slow, and we were his...eyes. We’d tell him what we saw on our jobs, reporting back in a dusty little shop. Sometimes he’d send a man to...to collect - to steal, if I’m being honest, and I do mean to start. We did this for about two years, always at the same shop, always with the same man, hat pulled low so we couldn’t see his face. Well, we...” With a pained look at Claire, he continued. “We mentioned your citrine. He laughed at our ignorance of gems. It’s not valuable. Jimmy here got irked, and said that you prized it, and that you knew your stuff, Lady Wilkes. Shadowface stopped laughing and..we haven’t seen him since. The little shop was all boarded up, and we got a letter the next day...I have it right here...”
To be continued next week...