[Mr. Lucky]

Aw jeez, you joined FreeRepublic to whine about "corporate communism" to a farmer?

Will this corporation send someone over to break the ice out of my water tank in the morning? To clean off my feed lot while the weather is warm enough that the mix of manure and urine doesn't freeze solid, but still cold enough to run the spreader over my 2008 corn ground? Maybe the corporation could run down to Portland and sit in line all day to pick up a load of DDG's or at least pay the fine if DOT notices that one of the marker lights is the wrong color. Certainly the corporation will stop by this summer and drive the haybine, and help with prayers that the rain holds off until after baling is finished. And what if Mrs. Lucky bales another rattlesnake this summer? She says she's gettin a job in town if that happens again; does the corporation have someone else they could send over to be by business partner and nurse and spiritual adviser and cook for the last couple of decades of my life? Could the corporation at least send somebody over to help with the first calf heifers?

You seem to know that this farming for a profit is all pretty easy after all, no more difficult, in your opinion, than becoming a junkie.

[Etoo]

[You seem to know that this farming for a profit is all pretty easy after all]

 

Nope.  Judging from what my wife's family says, it was hard, good, honest, work.  They lost their farmland when her dad fell ill from cancer 20 years ago. 

 

Today, the local cheese factory won't even bother with small operations like theirs anymore.   Gotta have at least (IIRC) 1000 cows or they won't do business with ya.

 

The traditional family farm is a thing of the past.  If you're able to be an exception, then kudos and good luck to you.

 

Then there's the local cement factory near my wife's home place that just got purchased by Mexicans.  Gotta launder those meth profits don't ya know...

[Etoo]

[Will this corporation send someone over to break the ice out of my water tank in the morning?]

 

Nah, that's what serfs are for.  

 

Usus Fructus.