Several years ago, after my husband and I read an article with some very scary statistics on the breakup of marriage and what causes it, we thought it might be a good idea to spice up our relationship by getting involved with S&M and bondage and safe words and stuff like that. Since I’m kind of a chicken about dealing with scary-looking people on the internet, we decided to do all our ball gag shopping with a sweet little company called Healthy and Active. They sell sex toys for old people and, while we’re not actually old, we are more likely to win a fight in an alley if Mickey Rooney was the one wielding the lead pipe.
Be warned: they are only nice looking in their pictures on the internet. Those geriatric sons of bitches will sell you a vibrator then sell your personal information. I now get spam from The Scooter Store and CraftMatic Adjustable Beds. My husband’s email account gets spam from BlackPeopleMeet.com, and even though we’re not racists we have met all the people we intend to.
All the spam I get from a lovely company called SeniorPeopleMeet.com (ewwww) has now morphed into spam from what is apparently their sister site: FarmersOnly.com. You can’t get an email from FarmersOnly and NOT click on it, so I had the pleasure of browsing through the dating profiles of all 23 lonely people in America’s Heartland.
This is real. I really need you to understand how really real it is. There is apparently a drought in the farm belt, and it’s a sex drought. There’s not enough human husbandry going on. The farmers are in danger of becoming extinct.
Do you know why farmers are having to resort to using their own personal American Gothic dating site? Because being a farmer sucks almost as bad as being a farm wife. Could YOU live on a plot of land that is inhabited by animals who have to have their breasts fondled twice a day, at 3am and 3pm? Have YOU ever cooked for forty field hands during the harvest? Have YOU ever pulled a plow when the mule came down with the worst case of rot foot the barber has ever seen?
I’m not into a lot of the kinky stuff these farmers are into, like cross dressing (it involves having to wear overalls) or bestiality (I’m supposed to shove my hand up where?). I also don’t enjoy long moonlit walks through the pasture in my hip boots to avoid the steaming piles of cow poo. But the future of our country really does rely on the farmers who feed us, so if you know anyone who is good with animals and doesn’t mind making her own sausage, sign her up for a free account. A lot of farmers will thank you.