Oh low blow,

Reason I say that is because of the news that Barry just assigned the task of chief agricultural negotiator to this Charles Addams cartoon character looking dude name of Islam Siddiqui. Looks like he could be Lurch's demented uncle. He's one of the Mansonto posse specializing in the advocacy of pesticide and herbicide use worldwide. From the little I've read, and any more would make me hurl, this fella is steeped in the corporate lore of profits before real consideration for the effects of the products advocated on the general population, plant, insect, animal, fish, human etc.. I bet Michelle is wagging her index finger going "oh no you di-ent". No nookie for the first pecker tonight.

Speaking of which, Nurse Natty was taking her evening constitutional up to Sun Yat Sen park the other evening and upon approaching from below saw an oriental couple cavorting on the grassy hillside. At first it appeared as though the woman was simply sitting astride the gent, however when asses began to make their presence known and little ornamental yipping and moaning sounds began to break the wind she thought "youtube moment".

So she stealthily crept up from behind and hid beside the Fu Dog statue where she would be assured of getting the best money shot (the guy collapsing in a heap of giggles) and turned her phone camera on. They were done in forty nine seconds. Its listed under "oriental couple worshiping ancestors".

We had a painful moment on the farm a couple of weeks back. I was going to feed the young chicks one day and upon opening the door found the headcount to be way low. My eyes went immediately to a spot where it appeared that a tarp had been breached. Sure enough there was a hole big enough for the chicks to get out, or a mongoose to get in. I didn't panic, really, I just went walking outside and around the perimeter of the building to see if any of them had survived by hiding in the grasses or jumping into a tree, but I couldn't find a one. Natalie located one later that day and put her back in with her traumatized sisters. There are about thirty remaining of the eighty four that were there. One of them edumacational moments in which a whole lot of information got collated quickly to come up with a," here's how i'd do it next time" fix.

It may be a blessing in disguise because after awhile I question my motives in wanting to increase the flock size. It is not a search for the perfect chicken or the perfect egg. It has nothing to do with satisfying some financial craving to have egg sales set me free to roam the earth in my emmision free Mercedes planting the seeds of Permaculture wherever wealthy, well meaning chowderheads would buy my rap and pay me cash. It's hardly the fascinating dialects and colloquialisms that each species displays.

Truth be told, I love the smell of estrogen in the morning. Far superior to napalm and much more soothing to the skin. Surround me with egginess and the sound of female voices singing their way through the garden. Throw in a couple of female kitties and mostly duckettes and oh my god, a subtle balance is struck with the testostitude that lies within these fleshy curves. Good thing too, otherwise my life would smell like a urinal in the old Grand Central Station and I would act out that scene from The Shining over and over again, where Nicholson axes his way through the bathroom door ranting "Here's Johnny".

If I had to guess, I'd say about twenty percent of what we do here is somewhat painful. Why just today I found one of our mongoose traps inhabited. This time of year they can get into the chicken yards and cut back your production plenty so its not a catch and release program. Its a catch and drown program. Ever drown anything? I mean its not like I had him by the throat and held him under as he thrashed about. I just lowered the trap into one of the duck ponds, went about some other chores and came back ten minutes later. After about five times and the recognition that you're gonna fry in hell, its a piece of cake.

So the pain becomes a window on to the realities of farming and lifes general patterns of chaotic survival embraced by our attempts to see a greater order in things and manifest something that smacks of stability and longevity. Without the experience of painful moments we have no way of appreciating those filled with joy and without that appreciation we're just like a bunch of fish tossed to shore, flopping about hoping some benevolent soul will find us and throw us back into the sea where we can breathe freely.

Good week at the farmers market. There were more vendors than ever and the usual festive atmosphere. We're now on a first name basis with many of the folks that come shop it up at our little niche. Its nice because you get to joke around and bust balls. By the end of the afternoon everyone is in the goofy zone and trading out leftover products. Caley and Natty and I have given in to the fact that market day is to be devoted to the consumption as well as the distribution of good food. Surrounded by such goodies as pad thai, tandoori chicken, fresh cracked coconut and those goddamn cookies that the sprout lady makes, our wills buckle and our belts loosen. Life is surrender, and on Wednesdays, life is easy.

Let it be known that official notice is hereby given announcing the season opener. That"s right, even though I'm sick and tired of seeing everyone together and having a good time, my therapist tells me that it's a good thing and will fortify my self esteem and help me cope with the fact that nobody really likes me and that the reason I throw these shindigs is to compensate for my need to be loved and bathed in warm milk while honey drizzles from the shower head.

So see ya' on the 25th of April. That's a Sunday with a start time of around four p.m.. We'll go till around ten at which time Grimes will drop his drawers and send any remaining guests screaming into the night. Pot luck with the theme being any food that stimulates the urge to get naked and sing.

"Really unky jp, Grimes is gonna show his tookus?"

"Thats right little fella, best way I know to clear a room."

"Better than Glenn Beck farting out his mouth?"

"Ya' got me there little fella, ya' got me there."

O.k., so how many of you actually went to youtube to check out Natalie's vide0?

April fools, perverts.

The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace out, Jp