We have company coming over for dinner tonight, so I went to the farmers’ market. Early. Before the quaint local talent.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Back up.
It’s not really a farmers’ market. It’s a hippie-play-farmers’ market. Imagine, if you can, booths with big signs saying, Organic onions and greens, where they sell wild onions and dandelions picked out of somebody’s yard, “manned” by hippies who haven’t bathed or changed clothes in a week. You want even sillier? Okay. I can do that.
Organic flowers. No, I’m not making that up. And no, we’re not talking plants; we’re talking cut flowers. That’s right. Certified, free-range tulips, not grown in a test tube!
These are, no doubt, the same city-raised idiots that pay 4 bucks for a dozen brown eggs because they think they’re organic, or not “dyed”, or some such leftist enviromoron nonsense.
I swear one of these days I’m going to start selling free-range water. I’d make a killing.
To be fair, about a fourth of the farmers there are real farmers (there is a conspicuous absence of “organic” and “free-range” on their signs, and they look like farmers, not hippies). About half of them are Amish.
I’m picky about where my money goes. I figure conservative money should stay in conservative pockets. I don’t buy from hippies; I only buy from conservatives. So today I bought an elk roast from Duane. And since he gave me a discount, I’ll give him a free plug.
Duane owns Long Elk Farm in Bloomfield. Duane is a conservative Republican, and a nice guy. I talk to him every time I go to that den of America-hating Bush-bashing liberals. (How Duane and every other conservative who sells there can stand being there all day, I do not know.)
I’ve bought from him several times. Farm-raised elk. Like farm-raised venison, it bears little resemblance to wild elk–no gaminess, very lean and rich-flavorted, truly wonderful stuff. Here’s the info:
Duane & Becky Long
Long Elk Farm
RR 3 Box 406
Bloomfield, IN 47424
(812) 863-7167
Cell: (812) 361-8735
longelkfarm@bluemarble.net
www.IndianaElkMeat.com
Buy from Duane. He’s a patriot. No praise higher than that.
Then there’s the quaint local talent (the secret is to go early so they haven’t dragged their hungover leftwing butts out of bed yet to go to the market and “share” their talent). Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger wannabes who always manage to hit on how wonderful and left-wing and back to nature they are and bash conservatives in the process.
(You know, if liberal myths about gun-owners were true, I would have taken my 45ACP out long ago–cause I’m always armed, even at the farmers’ market–and blown away the quaint local talent. So much for gun-grabbing liberal mythology.)
Just down the row from Duane the commies had their tables. There was the “save our social security” table, and the “green” table. And funny how these people just can’t read, or don’t look at T-shirts. They always try to get me to sign some left-wing petition.
Hey bozo, see the Bush-Cheney T-shirt? What are the odds that I’ll sign your idiotic “impeach Bush” petition?
The other problem is that this is a small town–not small compared to where I grew up, but I haven’t lived there in many years–small enough that you always run into those people you never want to see, ever, when you go there. Or almost always. Today, I didn’t. But I got there before they dragged their worthless hungover liberal butts out of bed (again, that’s the secret).
So tonight we’re having certified conservative Republican elk roast, with a chilled tomato cream soup (certified Amish tomatoes), god knows what else, and certified conservative Republican blackberry sorbet.
