After a long weekend and Monday side dressing corn and baling hay, I'm sitting on the porch this evening, poking around the internet on my laptop and listening to the Reds game on grandma's crank-powered radio, which was acquired to ensure she could listen to The Truckin' Bozo on WLW after society collapsed because computer programmers were too lazy to upgrade code to grapple with the turn of the century. Now we've got all our spring work done, and since we've still got a couple of weeks to get ready to run my obligatory field of wheat, I figured I could take an evening off. Plus, it's too hot to do anything but sweat your ass off. I just happened to notice that June is already half over, and I now realize that those crazy old bastards really were right when they talked about how quickly time passes. Now all those damn fool kids look at me like I'm nuts when I tell them the same thing. Don't worry, whippersnappers, you'll be saying the same thing when I'm dead and gone.