Self-Potatoes Are Real

Last night my Mom texted me this picture along with the caption, “Self Potatoes at the farm sshow”

Consider my mind blown.

Not only does this mean that the internet video viewing world as a whole owes this woman an apology, but it means my Mom is by far the most active reader of my blog. While it’s probably not the coolest thing in the world, that your biggest fan is your Mom, it’s really not a surprise either. I’ve always known that if I ever got a book actually published she would buy around three-hundred copies and demand I autograph all of them with personal messages to each of her friends, relatives, co-workers, ex-college professors  and so on.

I’d continue to talk about the hilarity of my mom being the core of my audience, but the only thing less cool than your mom being the core of your audience is writing at length about how your mom is the core of your audience. So instead I’ll put up some of the other pictures she texted me from the 2010 Pennsylvania Farm Show.

Riders on the storm

She sent this one without any explanation. At first I assumed it was some kind of pre-joust ritual before the best of Central Pennsylvania’s farmers battle to the death for a prize cow, but once I noticed the sparse crowd, I realized it couldn’t be, so I asked. Apparently, even though you can’t tell from the far away picture, they were all really fat and the horses looked like they were struggling. The funniest thing about this picture isn’t the fact that it’s fat people on horses for an equestrian competition, it’s imaging my mom sneaking up to the edge of the fenced in area, chuckling to herself as she takes a picture of the fat people on horses.

Next up was this picture, accompanied by the text, “This has been hilariuos”

Insert bad bread joke here

As far as I can tell this is a butter sculpture of a man and a cow serving butter to a family made of butter. It’s the kind of metaphysical commentary that questions the fabric of our existence and the texture of our reality. I’m pretty sure if Immanuel Kant saw this his head would have melted like butter in cast-iron skillet.

These pictures, more than anything, convince me that I need to start making some field trips with this blog, you know, to equivalent events. Maybe I’ll start planning a journey to next year’s Cooper Hill Cheese Roll, the Japanese Baby-Crying Contest or the Super Bowl.