The Perpetual Three-Dot Column
The Perpetual Three-Dot Column
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

by Jesse Walker

Wednesday, November 20, 2002
CAPITALISM, COWS, AND LSD: The things you find in weblogs! This week, my friend Sara Rimensnyder
writes about Bill Niman, a California rancher who converses with his cattle, then charges premium prices for the beef. "If that isn't shining evidence of so-called runaway capitalism, I don't know what is," she argues. "We're so rich we talk to our cows!"

I'm not sure if that's true, but it's one hell of a line. It sounds like something from The Night Johnny Carson Dropped Acid Before The Show:

Johnny: So yesterday ... um ... man, me and Ed are rich.

Crowd: HOW RICH ARE YOU?

Johnny: We're so rich, we talk to our cows.

Crowd: (A few people laugh, one guy applauds. Much uneasy shuffling.)

Ed McMahon: Are you OK, Johnny?

Johnny: Holy shit, Ed. Now you look like a cow.

Doc: Number 23, boys -- and pronto.

(The band breaks into "Milk Cow Blues" as Johnny coerces Ed into a clumsy waltz. Curtain.)

Sara sampled Niman's beef, and reports that it "seemed pretty average to me." Kinda like Ed, come to think of it.


posted by Jesse 9:40 PM
. . .

. . .

For past entries, click here.


. . .