19 August 2006

Old Farmhouse

We are some kind of a fat, spoiled as apples left too long on the ground, country. I was just talking to my dad. He was telling me about his mom's parents. They had a farm house where my dad was born and lived for the first five years of his life.

The farm house was built on top of a well. The spring the well accessed was so productive it had to be drained to the farm yard where it fed into a pond for several dozen ducks and geese. Horses, cows and hundreds of pigs were also raised. Any vegetable that could be grown in the short summers was sold to the local community. The vegetables needed by my grandmother's family were stored in the root cellar.

The horses did not have to be filled up with gas that cost $1.20 per litre. Bloodsucking financial corporations were not enriched monthly with ghastly payments such as we make for our cars. Horses are truly looking like one fuck of an option to further enriching greedy Albertan oil merchants and underhanded Japanese car manufacturers.

It was only seven decades since my dad was born in that farmhouse. We sure have become a lot less independent in seventy years. We are, in fact, slaves to corporate whores. This is an undesirable situation.

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