I was driving through the Midwest during August. Corn, corn and more corn. I turned on the radio, and there was an actual show on called Stalk Talk. What? Nothing makes driving 250 miles through corn more exciting than listening to a talk show about corn.
Then I rolled into Nebraska. Now there’s corn on my right and corn on my left, corn on the radio, and there are big Cornhusker signs every 10 feet. While driving through Nebraska, I noticed the same sign in several different cornfields along my route.
This wasn’t some handmade yard sale sign or even a well-made plywood sign that said “traylor fer rent.” This was a metal sign with a statute number from the state of Nebraska. This was an official sign. It said, and I quote, “No Human Defecating Allowed in the Corn Fields.”
OK. This is a good thing because I eat a lot of Doritos and corn dogs. I’m guessing this must be a real problem in Nebraska? ’Cause let’s face it people, the state only gets involved if it’s a problem. There is not a sign at my bank that says, “No farmer shall pay his loan off early.” You know why? It’s never been a problem.
Never! It reminds me of the movie Field of Dreams with Kevin Costner. The Iowa farm family is on the verge of bankruptcy, and one day the cornfield whispers to him, “If you build it, they will come.” The cornfield didn’t whisper, “Hey, Kevin.
For Pete’s sake, could you at least put a Port-o-John out here or something? These baseball players are wreaking havoc on your bushels per acre.” What’s a-maizeing to me is the family keeps asking themselves, “What are we gonna do? We might lose everything. All we have is this common, old, everyday TALKING CORNFIELD!!”
Call me corn nuts, but dang. If I had a cornfield that could talk, I would be all ears. Not to mention how great would it be to have a talking corn maze. I read about a family who got lost in a corn maze and had to call 911 to come rescue them. Yes, that’s a true story! They were in a 5-acre corn maze, which is about half the size of a WalMart parking lot, and couldn’t find their way out. It’s corn, not a border wall.
Just keep walking straight; you’ll run into that tall thing we call a barn. These people were literally 25 feet from the exit and couldn’t find their way out. If the corn maze could talk, it would say, “Marco!” or “Warmer, warmer; nope, colder.” If people like that are paying to enter a corn maze, I’m gonna buy a drone and put it on pay-per-view.
People, sometimes life is just corncobs and chaos! 
Hey! If you like my column then you’ll love my new comedy album, Farm Raised, produced by Larry the Cable Guy. It’s out now on Amazon, iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, Google Play and everywhere. Or visit Tim the Dairy Farmer.
