It's probably obvious that I'm a farmer..

Farmageddon vol.1

Hi people,

As many of you know, I spent life as an urban guy and flipped out at age 50 to buy a farm in southern Ohio. The most common question I get is, “What do you raise out there?” Well, I have about 45 acres, but the economies of scale in farming dictate that I will never turn a profit growing crops on such a small parcel unless I am working for a cartel. So, instead for a few years now, I’ve had a cow/calf operation - meaning I own females cows and bring in a bull to impregnate them. Essentially, it’s animal sex trafficking. A farmer once asked me, “What made you think you could move here from Hollywood and be a success at farming?” I told him that I’d done pretty well with Chia Pets and that technically they were both livestock and agriculture.

I find that one of the hardest things about farmlife is getting manure off of nice suede sidezip boots. I don’t seem to learn that it’s impossible to mince through a corral, sidestepping cow manure to turn off a water hose.

I don’t know why I inserted those pictures above - you’re perfectly capable of imagining those items without my help. I will try to refrain in the future.

Not long after I moved out here in 2004, I took my then-girlfriend on a hayride thinking it might be romantic. For those of you from Malaysia who are unfamiliar with our culture, a hayride is a big wagon with thousands of pounds of loose, fluffy hay piled on it for people to sit on. We were with maybe fifteen other people - and everyone was smoking on top of this thing. We were nothing more than human tinder on this hayride to Hades. I spent the entire ride looking around for compatible skin graft doners.

I have to go now but I’d appreciate it if you subscribe to my newsletter. Or you could share it. Or both. ——Ok, now I just sound needy.