Monday, January 13, 2014

Digestive Problems and Young Love in Small Town Amërïkä

I often have a difficult time evacuating my bowels in mid-January. I say this not in an effort to gain sympathy, but as a matter of stark, digestive reality. I don’t attribute this condition to a lack of dietary fiber. I suspect it is due, in part, to my lifelong affinity for contemporary Latvian Folk Music and government cheese.

Some years back I was involved in a brief, consensual, relationship with an orphaned Holstein calf who we shall call, in the interest of discretion, Rene. Sometimes, even now, my thoughts return to those romantic, Summer nights Rene and I spent together, both of us very young, and very much in love. Drinking fortified wine under the light of a Harvest Moon, the sound of country music carried across the fields from a distant farmhouse radio, and the odor of moist, fermented oats as the contents of her bowels tumbled to the Barn floor with a satisfying thump.

I am down to two beers, so I won’t bore you with further details, but I will render this one small piece of advice:
If you find true love, seize it, without fear, and never let it go.


  1. I would send out a quart of my gut-wrenching chili but the postmaster won't let me send hazardous waste through the mail anymore. Do hope there moovment's in the near future.

  2. Yep, after that anthrax scare in '01 it's hard to get anything like that through the mail.

    To much Nyquil in the barnyard.

  3. A tender and forlorn tale of true love in the barnyard, Disney/Pixar will be all over this like tits on a bull.