The Soirée

This is the farm that is behind us. Or maybe it is in front of us. As with many things in life, I suppose it all depends on your perspective. Anyway, I fail to see how they can call this a farm because they don't have any goats. Not even one. How is that possible? They have lots of equipment, maybe even every mechanical farm kind of vehicle and machine ever invented, but they just don't have any goats. They have large and stinky cows, they have crap-of-dawn crowing roosters, but there are undeniably NO goats anywhere. Irregardless, they refer to themselves as a 'farm'.

Now, every year, on the Labor Day weekend, this farm has a very large party. It is, in fact, such a large party that they invite literally everyone and have to resort to parking all of the vehicles in the pasture. (Just imagine how that smooshes all the nice eating grass, which by rights, belongs to the stinky cows.) Of course I take a bit of issue with this whole party idea because I don't think they have ever thought to extend an invitation to any goat whatsoever. I happen to think this is blatantly discriminatory. After all, the stinky cows are allowed to attend aren't they? And I hear barking over there, so I KNOW dogs are invited.

Anyhow, this year was the 100th anniversary of the farm, so you can imagine that this year's soirée was bigger and better than any of its predecessors. Whooping and hollering could be heard an entire day before the festivities, not to mention the revving of engines and blowing of industrial-sized horns. Truly it was enough to disturb one's rumination, both the philosophical and the stomach kind. It was all rather difficult to 'digest', one way or the other. I mean when goats celebrate, there is just a lot of polite head-butting and perhaps a few cheerful bleats to complement, but never anything so loud and gauche. As a matter of fact, the band hired for the evening dance was SO loud we could have had the dance ourselves. "I've got friends in looow places ... " Well, I've got friends that go down the hill too, but you don't find me singing about it. No siree, Bob! Goats have class, and couth. We are thankfully civilized, for goats' sake! Oy.

Anyway, we did manage to get a bit of sleep that night - after the music and the all-terrain-vehicle races were over. I suppose one should remember what Desiderius Erasmus said, " No party is any fun unless seasoned with Folly." I wonder which of those farm people is named Folly, and if he'd even consider inviting the goats next year? After all, it has also been said, " Nothing makes you more tolerant of a neighbor's noisy party than being there." - Franklin P. Jones.