I have accomplished nothing all week...

It is never going to stop raining...
I've been looking at ratty old international trucks-searching for a running 478 or 549 or whatever. The two engines are supposed to be almost the same but the bigger one has 5/16 more stroke.
I have no clue I am not a mechanic nor do I claim to be.
I would rather rebuilt a baler, or plant, or poke myself in the eye with a sharp stick.
I do not like cleaning wet, formerly important items, out of a shed that is about to fall down and that we are going to rebuild.
I do not like having no money.
What is the point of a a 549 cu inch gas engine? My only hope is that it will make the winter a little warmer through my huge consumption of fossil fuel.
Who really gives a rat's bottom if people get into White House functions uninvited? I say good for them! Some idiot said they could have been carrying anthrax. Yeah, and they could have had a thermo nuclear device shoved up there bung hole. They let Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton in. What if Al smeared poopie all over like he did with Twanna a few years back? Now that would have been a bioHazard!
Anthrax my bottom! Yeah, and they could have had death ray vision and poison laughing gas. And why shouldn't we be able to go see the president? He is paid by us? You go through a metal detector they check you for bombs, big freaking deal. You might bite him?
Idiots.
They get paid more than me also.
Of course everybody gets paid more than me.
Ate at the Amity cafe with the real farmers. They have it all figured out.
We should join the farm bureau to influence legislation. Oh, yeah! We need more good ideas like bigger farms and more corn for ethanol.
Excuse me, I'm going to go in the bathroom and turn on the fan and swear really quietly so my daughter doesn't hear me...
Which reminds me of a story.
I was one laying under my 1970 Chevy pickup in a very cold RV park in Idaho sometime around 2002 or 3. I was changing the starter which means that you have to disconnect the front drive line and injure yourself. I dropped the starter on my finger and said: !@#$%^&* and #$%^^(*& as well as, "oh fiddle."
I heard this little voice say "Daddy?!"
I looked to the side from under the truck and saw little pink sneakers.
I felt very small.
Perhaps I will retire.
I could grind feed and no-till or something.
This guy came by today after I managed to possible blow up my newest pickup truck.
He has a feed ration for me. 530lbs corn 530lbs wheat 400lbs something 230lbs something else. Soybeans and wheat and oats and whatever. He seems to think I can-and will, weigh all this stuff out and mix it for $200 a ton. This guy has bought from me before. Did he see a scales?
I said sure... I didn't feel like an argument.
I just dump it all in an old fertilizer box and auger in out into bags. I have no flipping clue, no stinking soybeans, and the corn is moldy.
Whatever....
Finish this sentence, "When I grow up I want to be a _________"