Friday, March 06, 2009

This then is indeed the shallow end of the gene pool. A lonely little burg in the wasteland of the American mid west. The so called "Great Plains" of our fair nation. Except unless you farm or make your living catering to the farming community there is nothing of any merit here. No manufacturing to speak of, not even any academia or artsy community. No, this is the land of the endless corn fields, rows of watermelons ripening in the June sunshine. God help you if you don't either own a farm or work for Farmer Brown. Because if you don't, you are some kind of after thought. As for the rest of the nation, the people here don't seem to acknowledge it.
So what if New York boasts a glittering array of theater and art? Or that the West Coast gave us not only Hollywood but the Silicon Valley and the onslaught of the dot commers? Here there be farmers and all hail king melon.
This is not to say that I think there is anything wrong with being a farmer. There isn't of course. It is a noble profession and we would be in deep trouble without the farmer. It just gets a little annoying being around people who think they are the be all and end all.
I digress.
My little prejudice is showing. I dislike people who have an over inflated opinion of themselves.
Sadly in the time I have lived in this little corner of the state, I have run into an abundance of people who think that they are someone very special because their daddy/granddaddy/Uncle Slomo own several hundred acres of prime farm land.
Not impressed. I went to school with people who had daddies who walked on the moon...and they were not so full of themselves. Hmmm.... walk on the moon---grow a stalk of corn. Both very important. And both cases people living off the achievements of others.

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