Before I begin today’s post, I want to apologize in advance if I offend any farmers who may be reading this. Please do not cut off my supply of food, unless you grow soy beans or quinoa.
If Barbara comes across this film while channel surfing, she will watch it. She can identify the movie by a single frame-any single frame, even if it’s just the credits with the key grip and the gaffer–and she will put down the remote and settle in, no matter where it is in the movie, even if Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum are already inside the alien mother ship.
We own the movie on Bluray (and in every format it has ever come out on), so she can watch it whenever she likes without commercials, but if she comes across it on TV, she will watch it anyway. And she has an uncanny ability to come across it at any time. Even if it is Christmas Day, and 98 out of 100 channels are showing things like It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Carol, or Miracle on 34th Street, she will find the 99th channel that is showing Independence Day. (The 100th channel is WPIX in New York, which is showing nothing but a log burning in a fireplace.)
I suspect at times that there is an Independence Day Channel only she knows about. (“Now: You’re watching Independence Day. Up next: Independence Day. Tune in tomorrow for our Independence Day marathon.”)
NOTE TO ALL FARMERS WAITING TO BE OFFENDED: Hold your horses; I’ll get to you in a moment.
I don’t know why Independence Day is my wife’s favorite movie. I suspect the brief and fatal appearance of Harry Connick, Jr. has something to do with it. I am positive that, if my wife has a free pass list, Harry is on it, along with Hugh Jackman and Adam Levine. So those three gentlemen better stay the hell away from my wife.
Anyway, so there we were, in our hotel room while vacationing in Jamaica, watching Independence Day on the USA Network, when the movie cut to commercials right after the alien mind-melds with President Bill Pullman. And that’s when I saw the ad for…
OKAY, ALL YOU FARMERS; GET READY!
In the commercial, we see a handsome farmer with a very stylish stubble beard driving his pickup out of his ranch, Lonely Acres. (Seriously–there’s a sign.) He isn’t headed for the feed store or the…well, wherever else farmers go. Instead he drives directly to his local farmers’ bar and greets the bartender with the familiar rural query, “Where are all the country girls at?”
Being that the farmer and the bartender are the only people in the saloon, he might have asked “Where is everybody at?,” or the bartender might have asked him, “It’s the middle of the friggin’ day; why in blazes ain’t you off doin’ farmin’ stuff?”
But instead, the ever-helpful barkeep replies, “They’re all at FarmersOnly.com” and hands the guy a smart phone. The bar then magically fills with girls, all in cowboy boots and many in Daisy Duke shorts. They sing “You don’t have to be lonely at FarmersOnly.com.”
The spot ends there, so we don’t get to see which of the girls the farmer chooses (possibly by handing her a bale of hay) to drive off into the sunset with, but the point is made, although it kind of comes off as more of an agricultural escort service than e(-i-e-i-o)Harmony.com.
The tagline is “City folks just don’t get it.” I’ll leave it to your imagination as to what “it” is.
Admittedly, my knowledge of farming is limited to what I’ve seen on TV and in the movies, and I’m pretty sure the typical farmer’s life doesn’t include talking pigs, moving from Park Avenue with Eva Gabor or turning a cornfield into a ballpark.
On the other hand, I did, perhaps naively, have an image of dad riding the tractor, freckle-faced beauty Sally Jo milking the cows, little Joey Sal feeding the chickens and mom calling everyone in for breakfast at 5 am Central Time (because, as everyone knows, that’s the time zone where all the farms are).
Sorry, but I just never pictured farmers as being particularly lonely.
But then again, I guess Randy Quaid was lonely. He was the alcoholic cropduster in Independence Day, father to children of vague and unexplained Hispanic bloodlines, driven to the brink of insanity by a real or imagined alien abduction and the superior looks of his brother Dennis. Although not a farmer per se, he was in the agricultural business, and so would be the ideal candidate for FarmersOnly.com. What country girl wouldn’t love a night of clogging with our loner turned world-saving hero?
Except, of course, for the fact that he–SPOILER ALERT–dies in the movie.
However, President Bill Pullman’s wife, Mary McDonnell also–SPOILER ALERT– dies (even though she goes on to become president herself on Battlestar Gallactica*). The now-lonely President could have certainly found comfort being held to the checked-shirted bosom of a cowboy-booted babe, and, after all, it’s not like he could have gone to PresidentsOnly.com (I don’t think).
In conclusion, let me say that the Internet is a wonderful thing, and sites like FarmersOnly.com can make life better for all sorts of people. If it had been around in the early 60’s, maybe Mr. Green Jeans wouldn’t have hung around with Captain Kangaroo so much.
See you soon.
*And also died.