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Yield: Well-fed food fantasies

Milo Yield

A plump television reporter sets up his camera

In the Gargantuan Supermarket aisle,

As urban consumers crowd ‘round to get selfies



And videos for their Facebook files.

“‘Thats right, who cares about farmers?’ a tattooed old hippie says to the man. ‘I get my corn and tomatoes right from a number eight can.’”

He says “I’m here to let you speak your piece



About the American food supply,

So open up your minds and mouths

Tell me your opinions about farmers and why.”

A well-fed realty tycoon in a pinstriped suit

Steps up and crosses his arms,

“We’re wasting our taxes on a worthless cause

Keeping farmers on their farms.

“I say Who needs the farmers?

I’m tired of spendin’ my tax dollars on ‘em.

Besides, their farms are just a’takin’ up space,

That would be better in condominiums.”

A robust co-ed in fake-holes blue jeans

Says “Who needs hog farmers anymore?

Why, we can get the ham and bacon we need,

Right here in this overstocked store.”

A portly matron in a PETA hat

Says “I oppose animal blood and pain.

I’m fighting for animal rights, these days.

I get my beef pain-free and wrapped in cellophane.”

A hollow-eyed vegetarian tells

The microphone thrust in her face,

“Who needs the American farmer? I get

Fruit and veggies from the produce case.”

“That’s right, who cares about farmers?”

A tattooed old hippie says to the man.

“I get my corn and tomatoes

Right straight from a number eight can.”

“And, why do we need dairy cows?” he adds

“They heat the Earth with methane gas.

And I can get all the cheese that I need

Named Velveeta and it comes from Kraft.”

A rotund woman in a red bandana

Speaking loudly and looking needy.

Says “Who cares if farmers go down any more?

It’s LeBron James who brings me Wheaties.”

A glassy-eyed environmental activist hollers,

“I think the world is savable.

Now that all our food’s pre-cooked,

Shrink-wrapped and microwavable.”

A heavy-set food blogger takes front and center

And declares, “I’ve discovered a truth!

The only way to get pesticides out of our food

Is to soak and cook it all in vermouth.”

A sallow-faced activist in an old sweatshirt

Emblazoned with “I oppose GMOs.”

Says, “Farmer’s are intentionally poisoning our food

From our heads right down to our toes.”

A Nike-clad jock with a diamond stud ring

Grabs the mic and speaks right up.

“Who needs farmers anyway,

As long as there’s a the Pizza Hut?”

And his millennial buddy with an over-hang belly

Grins and says, “You know, I think he’s right.

I’ve never seen a farmer yet

Who can grow a cold Bud Light.”

His stout girlfriend comes out of “The Spirits Shop”

And her opinion fits with the others.

She says, “The only farmers I care about,

Are Jack Daniels and the Gallo Brothers.”

A blue-collar mechanic walks up to the camera

And says, “Farmers are obsolete.

It’s the Schwann’s man who delivers my food,

Right on time and every week.”

Some welfare mothers take front and center,

And chant, “Don’t give farmers a cent.

We sure don’t need them any more.

SNAP food apps come from the government.”

A well-fed banker, accountant, a car salesman, too,

Declare farms are a waste of space.

Just taking up land that is needed lots more

In recreational parks and lakes.

To a soul they agreed, that in this day and age.

Farmers are needed no more.

And should just go away and quietly fade

Into history like extinct dinosaurs.

But, here’s what they don’t know. If the farmers all go,

And decide to quit trying to fight it.

Their cupboards will be spare and their fridges bare

And they can try enjoying a no-food diet.❖

Milo Yield

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