liar, liar

OK so maybe Michelle Obama didnt really email me.

But what if she did?

Michelle Obama

I got an email from Michelle Obama today.  Seems she was surfing the internet and found my post on the obese kid problem.  She wants me to help her put together a plan to slim down the nation's kids.  I told her I was pretty busy today, I am having cake for Wheezer's birthday, but I would be more than willing to whip up a plan for her.  I will post it later in the week when I have finished it.

Hope this new job pays well,  I can't believe she emailed me.

just turn off the damn tv for god's sake let the kids play outside

First Lady Michelle Obama Joins the Fight Against Obesity

EatTheView

Like many second-in-commands before her (let's be honest, the First Wife is REALLY the next in power), current First Lady Michelle Obama has championed causes close to her heart.
Most hyped was her "first garden," the Whitehouse's organic backyard garden, and her work encouraging Americans to eat more fruits and vegetables.
And now, Michelle wants to help put an end to the United States' growing obesity problem.
Teaming with U.S. Surgeon General Regina Benjamin, Michelle has said, "This will not be easy and it won't happen overnight. And it won't happen simply because the first lady has made it her priority," and, "It's going to take all of us. Thank God it's not going to be solely up to me."
Regina Benjamin has already laid out the blueprint to halting obesity, which Michelle will promote.
It's not rocket science, but the plan includes eating more fruits and vegetables, improving physical education in schools, and bringing more supermarkets to low-income communities.
Arguably, both Obama's have more "star power" than any other First Couple before them, but I'm not sure a fit and trim Michelle Obama is the right choice.
Maybe Oprah is a better pick. She's someone whose yo-yoed between really fat and, uh, not-so fat; more typical of the average Joe.
Then again, that might rule her out too.
ViaReuters.

ok send your kids here for the summer i can fix this problem!!

Metro Atlanta / State News 7:21 p.m. Thursday, January 28, 2010

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Michelle Obama: Childhood obesity a ‘public health crisis'

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By Bob Keefe

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

ALEXANDRIA, Va. -- Unless something is done to reduce childhood obesity, America's children are on track to live shorter lives than their parents for the first time in U.S. history, the nation's top health officials and first lady Michelle Obama said Thursday.

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"Obesity in this country is nothing less than a public health crisis," Mrs. Obama said at an event at a YMCA in Alexandria as she prepares to formally launch a national campaign against childhood obesity in the next several weeks. "It's threatening our children, it's threatening our families and, more importantly, it's threatening the future of this nation."
As many as one in three children are overweight or obese, according to a report U.S. Surgeon General Regina Benjamin released Thursday in an appearance with Mrs. Obama.
The situation is even worse in Georgia.
The state ranks No. 3 in childhood obesity, behind only Mississippi and Arkansas, according to a report last year by the nonprofit Trust for America's Health. More than 37 percent of Georgians aged 10-17 are obese, according to the group.
At Children's Healthcare of Atlanta, Dr. Mark Wulkan sees the problem firsthand. As the hospital's chief surgeon, he oversees gastric bypasses, lap band procedures and other surgeries on obese children.
"We do one or two a month … but in reality, I could do a few of these every week," said Wulkan, who also teaches surgery at Emory University. Childhood obesity, he said, "is a problem that's been growing since at least the 1990s, to where it now truly is a crisis."
Mrs. Obama said her crusade against childhood obesity began on a personal level. After her pediatrician warned that her two daughters' body mass indexes were "getting off-balance," she said she started making subtle changes in their diet -- replacing sugary drinks with water, reducing portion sizes, cutting back on burgers.
She gave few details on the national campaign she is planning. However, the surgeon general's report included a laundry list of recommendations, including:

• Requiring students from pre-kindergarten to grade 12 to take physical education.

• Requiring child care providers to offer at least 60 minutes of physical activity per day.

• Requiring schools to develop comprehensive wellness plans that include policies to offer kids more nutritious lunches.

Many schools have reduced PE classes, recess and other activities because of budget cuts. At the same time, the recession has caused many cash-strapped families to forgo healthier foods in favor of cheaper, less nutritious meals, Mrs. Obama said.
But Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius cautioned that not addressing childhood obesity now will cost the country in the future.
Citing figures from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, Sebelius said the United States now spends about $1 of every $10 in health care dollars treating obesity-related problems -- twice what it spent on such problems in 1998. Each year, she said, the country spends nearly $150 billion on obesity-related health issues -- more than it spends on treating cancer.
"The unhealthier we are as a nation, the more our health care costs will continue to rise, and the less competitive we will be globally," Sebelius said. "We have not only a moral obligation, but I would say an economic imperative to begin to make a change."

multi tasking

OK, so one of those new words is "multi tasking" The definition of multi tasking is : doing a whole bunch of crap at once.

Who are they kidding, my grandmother did that, my mom did that and now I have to do that.

For example, I get up, turn the washer on, fill the woodstove in the house, make coffee, do the dishes left from the night before, get clothes out for 6 people, wake everyone up, get everyone out the door, empty the washer, fill the dryer, fill the washer, pretend to fold some of the clothes, make sure kids get on the bus. Then I head to the barn, milk the cows, feed the calves blah blah.

When I go out to milk the cows, I fill the woodstove in the barn, turn the dryer on for the washcloths, fill the washer with water for the next load, get the pipeline washer started, bring up the cows, set up the parlor to milk, make instant coffee, stumble to the parlor, try to smile while milking them, happy milk from happy cows you know.

When I get done milking, I have to make sure my pre-k kid makes the afternoon bus, make lunch, answer phone calls, listen to bill collectors, call for feed, talk to Janet, pretend to fold more laundry, talk to Janet again.

They want to see multi tasking, just follow me around for the day. Who the hell are they kidding. Answering the phone and filing their finger nails at the same time is multitasking.

Talk later,

Annie

dh?

OK, so I have this friend. Her and I trade stuff every now and again. Crap like clothes, furniture, crap like that. She always tells me she has to ask her "DH" when giving stuff away. For example she had a coffee table for me and she had to ask her "DH" if she could give the damn thing away.

I wondered why she was so mean to her husband. She seems like a nice girl. Then one day I read one of her posts talking to another girl who asked her what "DH" stood for. She simply said it was for "Dear Husband".

That explains it! All this time I thought she was called her husband a Dick Head.

Go figure.

Talk later,

Annie

Lady Gaga and Haiti

OK so I am milking cows this morning and they said Lady Gaga sent 500 thousand dollars to Haiti. Because I live in a cave I have no idea who Lady Gaga is and why in the hell is she sending that kind of money to Haiti?

Holy crap I think I had a hurricaine come thru here last summer. If I write a letter to this Lady Gaga will she send me 500 thousand dollars?

I would settle for 500.

so this lady wins money, gets drunk and gets run over?

SANDUSKY, Ohio (Jan. 27) - Authorities say a woman who had been out celebrating her lottery winnings at a north-central Ohio bar was killed when she was struck by a car.

The Sandusky Register / AP

Deborah McDonald appears on the Ohio lottery show "Cash Explosion Double Play" on Jan. 12. She died Tuesday after being hit by a car.

The Ohio Highway Patrol says 47-year-old Deborah McDonald of Crystal Rock had just left the bar near Sandusky on Tuesday night and was hit as she was walking along a road.

An Ohio Lottery spokeswoman says McDonald won $8,000 in the lottery's TV game show "Cash Explosion Double Play."

The show was taped Jan. 12 and is set to air at the end of the month.

Bar patrons say McDonald was with a group that had been celebrating her winnings and playing pool.

Patrol Sgt. Joe Wentworth says police are looking into whether alcohol was a factor, but they don't think the driver of the car was drinking.

Filed under: Nation

Kramer hair

Almost every time I go to the store, someone stops me and says "is that your "real" hair?"

At first I had no idea what in the hell they were referring to so I called my sister. She told me they are referring to your curls idiot, it happens to me all the time, just ignore it.

It happened last week and I just looked at the lady and replied "Is that YOUR real hair?"

My hair is really curly. This must be amusing to some people. When I go out with my sister in law she has a rule:when Anne's hair starts to look like Kramer's it's time to go home". That's when the gel and hairspray wears off I guess.

My kids all have super straight hair. I have three sisters, only two of us have the "curls".

My daughter Karen called one day, she takes cosmotology in school.

"How's it going Karen?"

"Terrible, Mom, we had to do a test on a mannequin and I got stuck with the one that has hair like YOU".

"Oh, sorry".

God gave me curly hair because he knew damn well I would never take the time to do anything with it otherwise. Taking hours in the bathroom seemed like a waste of time to me.

Oh well, gotta go milk the cows, has anyone seen my hairgel?

Annie

i could do this

a new career

My girlfriend from Buffalo called the other day. We got chatting about crap, catching up on the latest stuff that has been happening in our lives. She told me I should look for a different career, that the farm is just too much work. My Dad said the same thing on Thanksgiving. I asked her "What in the hell do you think I am going to do for a living at my age?"

"Oh, Anne, that's easy, just do stand up comedy".

"Oh, now there's a great idea". I am sure they have a huge call for stand up comedy here in Chautauqua County. Stand in front of the Walmart telling jokes doesn't pay real well.

So, I went to Youtube and looked up Roseanne and Ron White. I watched their routines a few times.

Holy crap, I could do that!!

OK Roseanne swears like a trooper and makes fun of everyone. Got that down!

Ron White tells funny stories while smoking cigarettes and drinking mixed drinks. Crap, I did that for free at the Chaffee Hotel for years.

I am not going to good Resume writing. Maybe I could get a stint on Oprah, or maybe Walmart?

Talk later,

Annie

The blog

My oldest daughter called the other day. "Mom how in the heck are you doing that blog thing?, you can barely turn on your computer?"

"Don't know, Karen".

Here is what I do.

I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.

I read blogs for fun because I have no life. If I see something cool I like on a blog, I google it, youtube it, and sometimes even email the blogger about it. Then I try to actually do it. Sometimes it takes days before I figure it out.

Determination my friends.

If there is something you want to do. Just do it.

Here is how I get my information in this age. It's awesome.

Google it. Read, read, read.

Then look it up on Youtube, watch,watch,watch.

Then email folks who are doing the same thing.

Then call Janet to show her so she can do the same thing. She will do it better of course, but that's OK. I am used to that.

OK gotta go milk the cows.

Facebook

OK, so I got talked into joining Facebook. Didn't have a clue what is was. Now I am addicted to it. I have found so many old friends its just awesome.

I tried to get my girlfriend to join, she won't. These are her comments.

"What if you get a "stalker" on there.?"

My answer: "I am 44 years old, I have 7 kids, and I live in the middle of nowhere, I would glady welcome stalkers at this point in my life."

"Are you going to put your real picture on there?"

"Nope, I am going to use a picture of Kirstie Alley and tell everyone I have really changed over the years".

"People try to steal your personal information off there you know".

"I have the worst credit rating in the world who in the hell would steal any of my information, kinda feel sorry for the person who would bother."


On Christmas I got a phone call from my sister.

"Those people on Facebook have no life, they post every move they make".

I tried not to tell her while we were talking I was posting pictures of my kids opening up their Christmas Gifts.

It's official, I have no life.

Talk later,

Annie

gross huh?

Imported food leaving bad taste

Sunday, August 19, 2007

By ALEX PULASKI

Newhouse News Service

In the past year, federal inspectors have found salmonella in Hershey's Kisses imported from Mexico, illegal pesticides and toxic compounds in peanut butter from India and scores of shipments of Chinese seafood tainted by unsafe animal drugs, unregistered pesticides or salmonella.

As the world turns into a huge buffet line for the American appetite, consumers face increasingly tough decisions about what export countries and food products pose higher risks of making them sick, while government inspectors struggle to protect and inform them. Mandatory country-of-origin labeling, passed by Congress in 2002, has been delayed under pressure by meat packers and retailers, leaving consumers with limited information about where their food might come from.

But an analysis by The Oregonian newspaper of Portland, Ore., points out some danger spots - food exports and exporting countries that have cropped up most often with problem inspections.

Overall, vegetable products, followed by seafood and fruit, were most often rejected. Most of the refused products had been subject to "import alerts," meaning that federal inspectors had noticed a pattern of problems, requiring that shipments be held unless proven safe.

Specifically, The Oregonian's analysis of U.S. Food and Drug Administration records shows that food items most often refused entry over the past year (and the most common reasons for the refusals) included:

Candy (filth), dried peppers (filth) and cantaloupes (salmonella) from Mexico.

Spices (salmonella) from India.

Vegetables (pesticides) from the Dominican Republic.

Seafood (animal drugs, pesticides, salmonella) from China.

Domestic foods carry their own dangers - such as recent outbreaks of salmonella in peanut butter and E. coli in spinach. But risks of imports have spilled into the public consciousness this year since a lethal chemical additive from China showed up in pet food, the U.S. government cracked down on Chinese farmed fish, and China-made toothpaste was found to contain a poisonous chemical....

i didnt write this they didnt use the word crap even once

Behind that pure, wholesome, nourishing glass of milk, there's an insurgency.

The price of raw milk paid to farmers has dropped to its lowest level in 40 years. Dairy farms are going under across the country, and a few dairymen have grown so desperate they've taken their own lives.

As the crisis deepens, criticism grows that dairy giants are trying to monopolize the industry, to the detriment of independent farmers and consumers.

Farmers Squeezed On Prices

Most of what we know about the dairy business is in the supermarket: gallon jugs of whole, 2 percent and organic milk; blocks of cheddar, Swiss and Monterey Jack; cartons of chocolate chip ice cream.

Shorty Miller owns a small dairy in central Texas. Like nearly every other dairy farmer in America, she's angry. Milk prices in the supermarket have come down only slightly, but the price she gets for the raw milk from her Holsteins has dropped nearly in half.

Borden milk is $3.99 a gallon. Oak Farms, which is bottled locally, is $3.49 a gallon, and that's a sale price," Miller says, pointing to cartons of milk in the dairy case at Brookshire's Grocery in McGregor, Texas.

How long can Miller's dairy hold out being squeezed the way it is?

"Depends on how long the bankers will work with us. If we want to put up everything we've worked 40 years for, we can hold out a little longer. But do we want to?" Miller says. "I don't think the American public realizes where the milk comes from. Or what they're going to do if we don't have fresh milk."

Enlarge John Burnett/NPR

Joel Greeno runs a dairy farmer near Kendall, Wis., and also founded a medium-sized dairy co-op. An activist for family farms, Greeno is one of many dairy farmers who accuse Dairy Farmers of America is hurting independent farmers.

John Burnett/NPR

Joel Greeno runs a dairy farmer near Kendall, Wis., and also founded a medium-sized dairy co-op. An activist for family farms, Greeno is one of many dairy farmers who accuse Dairy Farmers of America is hurting independent farmers.

As the dairy industry concentrates into fewer and fewer players, some farmers complain it's killing off independents and reducing options for consumers who want to buy locally.

And they're speaking out.

A Tight Grip On Milk Market

Earlier this month, distraught dairy farmers packed a room in Tomah, Wis., to implore their elected representatives to do something. Their comments were broadcast on local radio station WCOW — Cow 97.

Rebecca Goodman and her husband run a 120-year-old dairy in Sauk County, Wis.

"We all worship at the altar of the free market — that's what we're taught as good Americans," Goodman said on the air. "But I don't know what is free about a handful of companies controlling the process from beginning to end."

Two entities have come in for the harshest criticism.

Dairy Farmers of America, or DFA, based in Kansas City, Mo., is the nation's largest dairy cooperative. It buys milk from 18,000 farmer-members and says it tries to get them the best price. DFA controls about a third of the nation's raw milk supply.

Dean Foods is a Fortune 500 company headquartered in Dallas. With brands like Horizon Organic and Land O'Lakes milk, Dean buys from DFA and bottles more than a third of the nation's milk.

Pete Hardin is publisher of The Milkweed, a monthly dairy marketing and economics report.

In the 30 years Hardin has been writing about the dairy industry, he has chronicled the decline of the family farm and the rise of "Big Milk." Hardin believes the fundamental problem with the dairy industry is a lack of honest competition and too little government oversight.

Milk By The Numbers

22.2 billion — Gallons of raw milk produced annually by American dairy farmers

21 — Gallons of milk consumed annually per capita in the United States

4,600 — Number of dairy farms that have been closing each year for the past two decades

648,000 — Number of dairymen in America in 1970

60,000 — Number of dairymen left in America today

104 — Percent of growth of large dairy farms (more than 2,000 cattle) between 2000 and 2006

$12.5 billion — Net sales of Dean Foods, nation's largest processor of fluid milk, in 2008

31 — Percent gain in Dean Foods' profits in second quarter of 2009

40-50 — Percent drop in prices paid for raw milk to dairy farmers in 2009 compared to 2008

2 — Number of California dairy farmers who have committed suicide in 2009

Sources: USDA, Dean Foods, National Milk Producers Federation, NPR interviews with dairymen

"That's why we have reached, in my opinion, the point we have reached, where farm prices are so abysmal," Hardin says. "And we know the money is in the marketplace — we see what the consumer's paying for these dairy products. If the farmer would get a fair share of that, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

As Farmers Flounder, Dean Foods Prospers

Let's take a minute to see how milk gets from the barn to your kitchen.

Raw cow's milk is gathered in a tank. Then a milk hauler takes the farmer's milk to a fluid milk plant, where it is pasteurized and bottled. Or, he trucks the raw milk to a different plant that makes it into cheese, butter, yogurt or ice cream.

The processor then wholesales the milk or dairy products to the supermarket, where you buy it.

The place in our cow-to-consumer chain that's causing the most grief these days is the processor: the middleman.

As businessmen, they want to buy raw milk at the cheapest price from the co-op and sell it at the highest price to the grocery store.

"Dean Foods, which is the largest fluid processor in the U.S., at their last annual meeting said, 'Hey, we've got super profits because we're buying the milk so cheap,' " says Texas dairy farmer Miller.

Dean's fluid milk profits jumped 35 percent in the first two quarters of this year. In a teleconference with analysts in May, Dean's CFO bragged that cheap raw milk had created "the perfect sunny day" for the $12 billion corporation. This, at a time when Miller is losing 45 cents on every gallon of milk she sells from her cows, because she's making less than the cost of production.

Sen. Bernie Sanders, whose home state of Vermont has lost 32 dairy farms so far this year, has gone on the offensive.

"Dean Foods controls about 90 percent of the milk supply in Michigan, 80 percent in Massachusetts, over 80 percent in Tennessee and 70 percent in northern New Jersey. That's not a free market." Sanders says.

Dean And DFA: Goliaths Link Arms

Marguerite Copel, vice president of corporate communications for Dean, insists it is a free market. There are lots of milk buyers besides Dean, and the price of raw milk is set by the marketplace, not by one company, she says.

But there's no denying that Dean is the embodiment of corporate bovinity.

Over the past decade, through mergers and acquisitions of co-ops and dairy processors, both Dean and DFA grew bigger and bigger. Then, the goliaths linked arms: DFA entered into a 100 percent, full-supply agreement with Dean.

So as Dean came to dominate regional markets, any dairyman who wanted to sell to one of Dean's 50 brands had to go through DFA, whether they wanted to or not.

Think Elsie the Cow as Gordon Gekko.

Dean Foods controls about 90 percent of the milk supply in Michigan, 80 percent in Massachusetts, over 80 percent in Tennessee and 70 percent in northern New Jersey. That's not a free market.

- Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders

A group of dairymen are suing DFA, Dean Foods and others in federal court for allegedly engaging in anti-competitive and predatory behavior. The lawsuit claims that DFA has effectively created an illegal milk cartel in the Southeast.

John Harrison, owner of Sweetwater Valley Farm, an 800-cow operation near Philadelphia, Tenn., is one of the 17 dairymen bringing suit.

Harrison says the industry was different before DFA came into existence in 1998.

"Prior to that, it was kind of a beautiful market in our area, because you could pick up the phone today and go somewhere else tomorrow. "There was still a lot of competition," Harrison says. "Well, as DFA came in and began tying up all those supply contracts, those things disappeared. The net effect was that you had no other option. If you were dissatisfied or wanted to make a change, you had no option to go sell your milk."

Rather than enjoy the benefits of being part of a farmer-owned co-op, Harrison says DFA has artificially depressed prices for raw milk.

Enlarge Toby Talbot/AP

Serena Reynolds, 15, helps with chores at her family's farm in Alburgh, Vt. Last year, the family was getting nearly $20 per hundred pounds for the milk. Now, they're getting about $11.50 per hundred pounds.

Toby Talbot/AP

Serena Reynolds, 15, helps with chores at her family's farm in Alburgh, Vt. Last year, the family was getting nearly $20 per hundred pounds for the milk. Now, they're getting about $11.50 per hundred pounds.

"The milk market does not function in the Southeast as a true market," Harrison says.

The observation is echoed by Peter Carstensen, an antitrust expert at the University of Wisconsin law school who closely watches the dairy industry.

"Where there is a competitive market for buying milk, dairy farmers are paid more. When DFA comes to dominate a market, then farmers are paid less. Monopolists behave like monopolies," Carstensen says.

Dairymen are not saying all their problems can be traced to the consolidation of their business. Farming is more complicated than that. Prices for animal feed, equipment and land have gone through the roof. And most significantly, today there's a surplus of milk on the market, most agree, because of too many milk cows and a shrinking export market.

Rick Smith, the CEO of the Dairy Farmers of America, laments the desperate straits his members are in, but he says some context is in order.

NPR's John Burnett sat down for a wide-ranging interview with Rick Smith, head of the Dairy Farmers of America. You can read more from Burnett's interview with Smith here.

"In 2007, we had record prices. Farmers had record income. What we're really seeing is how this volatility in this industry at both ends is very destructive," he says.

Smith says there has been no collusion with Dean Foods; he says Dean has been a good customer for DFA's members. Smith also says DFA does not force dairymen to join the co-op. But he agreed that when he took over the co-op in 2006, it was time for a change.

"We recognize that in some places — not in all — our image needs work," Smith says. "I think the size and scope of DFA in some quarters was perceived as threatening. And thus, in the last few years, we have worked very hard at being more collaborative and much more transparent."

On The Trail Of Big Milk

Milkmen have been gaming the system for years.

Back in the 1980s, prosecutors in two dozen states got 100 convictions or guilty pleas for milk processors who were charged with bid-rigging on school milk contracts.

In the last few years, we have worked very hard at being more collaborative and much more transparent.

- Rick Smith, CEO of the Dairy Farmers of America

Last year, the Commodity Futures Trading Commission fined DFA and two top former executives $12 million for trying to inflate cheddar cheese prices. The scene of the crime: the dairy pit at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange.

The antitrust division of the Justice Department spent two years investigating anti-competitive conduct in the dairy industry. Congressional and legal sources tell NPR that in 2006, investigators recommended charges be filed against Dairy Farmers of America and Dean Foods, among others, for violating the Sherman Antitrust Act.

Under President Bush's Justice Department, the case was shelved. Earlier this month, three senators sent a sharply worded letter asking the new antitrust division to re-energize that investigation.

The call for government oversight comes most urgently from independent farmers like Harrison, the Tennessee dairyman and plaintiff. He says they filed their civil lawsuit against the dairy giants because the Justice Department wouldn't file its case.

"We need to be ensuring that there are functioning markets everywhere. And a functioning market to me means multiple buyers and multiple sellers," Harrison says. "And that's what DOJ is charged with doing. And we don't have that."

Several sources quoted in this story say they're being interviewed by Justice Department lawyers as they collect information and decide whether to reopen the case against Big Milk.

john bunting

OK i want to introduce you to a smart guy who has facts. Here is his site. He has alot of interesting information.

It's a serious site, I must warn you.

of course because I am dumb, you will have to put his address in your browser yourself until I fix it .
Talk later,

Annie

www.johnbuntingsjournal.blogspot.com/

read the last line I stole this from John Buntings blog

he Associated Press
Friday, January 22, 2010; 10:54 PM

COPAKE, N.Y. -- State police in New York say an upstate dairy farmer shot and killed 51 of his milk cows in his barn before turning the rifle on himself.

State police found the body of 59-year-old Dean Pierson in his Copake barn on Thursday. A visitor found a note Pierson had left on the barn door that said not to come in and to call police.

State police would only say that Pierson was having personal issues.

Any "personal issue" is bound to be made worse by financial stress. What dairy farmer today is not experiencing financial stress?

"E pluribus unum is surely an ironic motto to inscribe on the currency of this Utopia gone bust," said Kurt Vonnegut in his novel "God Bless You Mr. Rosewater"(1965).

Lives, how many lives must be sacrificed before these false gods of "supply and demand"?

very very sad story

BREAKING: Farmer kills 51 cows then turns gun on himself By Jamie Larson Published: Friday, January 22, 2010 11:49 PM EST COPAKE � Thursday morning, Copake dairy farmer Dean Pierson went into his barn with a rifle and killed all 51 of his milk cows before turning the gun on himself, ending his own life. According to the New York State Police out of Livingston, around 1 p.m. a milk man came to the barn to make his pick-up and found a note on the door that said not to come in and to call the police. �He was basically trying to save any family or friends from having to discover him,� said Capt. Scott Brown. Brown said at that time a neighboring farmer did go in to see what had happened. He discovered Pierson and called 911. Trooper Charles Butenhoff arrived at the scene shortly thereafter and upon entering the barn found Pierson on the ground, already deceased. Trooper Butenhoff then saw the 51 cows lying dead in their rows of milking stalls. Brown said Pierson was efficient and selective, only killing the milk cows, leaving his heifers and calves to survive. Brown, Bureau of Criminal Investigations Investigator Kelly Taylor, Investigator Abdul Weed and Sgt. Station Commander Kimberly Adriance then responded to the scene. �The investigation did reveal he was having personal issues,� Brown said. �It was a very unusual, bizarre case. And it�s unfortunate. We handle numerous suicides a year but nothing like this. Mr. Pierson was a well respected dairy farmer.� On Friday morning farmers from around Copake came together and dug a large trench beside the barn to bury the bodies of the cows. Out of respect for Pierson�s family the men said they would leave any comments on the matter to the police and Pierson�s widow. �It�s a hard time to be a farmer these days,� one man said from inside the fence
	Topic

New Topic Re

Annie's not very funny this morning

OK guys I guess I'm not very funny today, I have to show you all an article that breaks my heart. There was a dairy farmer who shot his cows and then turned the gun on himself. I don't know the guy, never heard of him, don't know his situation.

My mom told me to try to get on the front of the paper so people could see the situation. This guy made the national news. Is this what someone has to do to be heard?

All I know is that the situation with agriculture here in this country is in bad shape. I realize Mr Obama feels a real need to help Haiti, but I think maybe he should look at his own country. It's nice to help out other people, but maybe we should make sure we are all taken care of first. I know this is going to upset some people.

For the past year the dairy farmers have had to operate their farms with half the money as usual. The price they have gotten paid for the milk dropped like a rock. How would you like to go to work everyday for half of your wages.

The cows are now worth half as much as they were, so their equity is cut in half. Now the banks won't lend you money to put in your crops, so you start selling things to pay bills.

Alot of them got in trouble for selling things without letting the banks know about it because these things were on a lien. What in the hell were they supposed to do?

Some have gone out of business, most have stayed in business. They can't afford to sell out because their cattle arent worth much. They wouldn't be able to pay off their outstanding loans.

Many have filed chapter 12 bankruptcy.

How would you like to work 7 days a week, and open up your check that you get once a month and find a zero on the bottom of it because you have your bank loans taken out of it. How would you buy groceries? How would you buy Christmas gifts? How would you like it if that went on for 5 months?

How would you like it if you didn't have hot water for 6 months?

How would you like it if you went to apply for Food Stamps and Medicaid, only to be denied because you don't have your taxes done because you owe your book keeper too much money while welfare people sitting next to you are talking on their cell phones. How much money do they owe their book keepers?

How would you like to have a birthday party for your daughter with no hot water and have two people drive in your driveway collecting money.

Welcome to my world, I guess it's not very funny is it?

Try telling your kids they can't buy books from the school book orders. Try to pay brownie dues. try to buy school supplies, easter candy, valentines cards, let alone food.

I am very lucky. I was born with a sense of humor. I will survive.

This guy did not.

I am not telling you this to whine. I am telling you this to wake up this country. Without food we will all die.

Think about that.

When is the last time you went without food? What if their were not farmers left? What would you eat? Your car? Your plasma TV?

I have to go milk the cows now.

Tomarrow I will be funny again .

I promise.

Talk later,

the moving guy

The other day my girlfriend stopped over to pick up some dressers I don't use. I am getting rid of them because they are too heavy for me to move and I have never put any clothes in them the whole time they have been in my possession.

She pulled in the yard with this man I had never met before. Nice guy, I figured it was her husband. He jumped out of his van and asked where the dressers were, opened up the door and walked right into the bedroom, no whining, nothing. I stood there in silence.

He grabbed the big heavy mirror off the top of the dresser, and had it bungy corded to his van in less than half a minute. I could tell he was a professional.

I helped him load the dressers, and one coffee table he picked out of my garbage pile.

He walked away for a minute to get something out of his van so I whispered to my friend, "Wow, you have a great husband".

"Are you kidding me", she answered. "I am divorced, that's certainly not MY husband. I hired this guy through a friend, he moves furniture for people for extra money.

We both laughed and they drove off.

There for a minute I thought she had a husband who liked to move furniture.

Wrong again.


It has been my experience that this is the way it goes.

1. you move in with someone, they are all about helping you move your stuff, your furniture, your crap.

2. this lasts for 1 week

3. after the first week is over, you are never to ask to move another piece of furniture again.

4.This is the law

5. The 11th Commandment is "Thou shall not move furniture".



We have an unwritten law here, you get to move the heavy furniture ONCE, after that you are on your own. I hate that.

Talk later,

My signature

the mannequin

I have been looking for a mannequin for a while now. They are pretty expensive so finding one I can afford is another story. I buy all sorts of crap from Craigslist in Buffalo. The Craigslist here is awful. No one works here so why would they have anything to sell?

OK so I find a mannequin in Alden where Tim's Dad lives. I email the lady and ask her if she could drop it off at his house. She says that would be fine. She only wants 10 bucks for it so it fits my budget. I am going to use it for a model for the clothes I sell on Ebay.

I call Tim's Dad. The conversation goes like this.

"Dad, how are you?"

"Good"

"There is a lady gonna bring you a mannequin today, can you give her 10 bucks?"

"Annie, what in the hell is a mannequin, I can't hear you really good".

"It's like a naked lady, Dad".

"Did you say naked lady?"

"yes father, give the lady 10 bucks and she will give you the mannequin"


"Annie, did you say if I give this woman 10 bucks, she will drop off a naked lady?"

"Yeah Dad, just do it OK?"

"Why in the hell didn't you call the lady earlier? I have been living here for how many years alone. I would have paid alot more than 10 dollars for a naked lady!"

"For God's sake Dad, just give the woman the money"

"OK, I will, Love you, bye bye".

The next day i got an email from the lady that i still haven't met. It read something like this.

"I delivered the mannequin to your Dad. I just want to let you know, we had a blast, he is a riot, I am going there for coffee on Sunday."


It's really funny how you can get people together without even trying.

Now Dad has a new friend, and a naked lady.

Wow, that's cool.

Talk later,

Flyguy

Janet and I were talking and she mentioned that her husband Sam had cleaned the garage and did a really nice job of it. I was totally unaware that men were capable of doing anything of this nature.

Then it came to me.

I bet you a million dollars he is going to start his own "manly" following called Flyguy. It will be just like Flylady where you follow instructions on cleaning, you will get daily emails, monthly newsletters, and be able to purchase the latest cleaning helper tools available.

What a smart guy!!

I can just see it now.

Good morning all you Flyguys. Today were are going to clean the garage. Make sure you sort your tools and hang them on the wall just the way your grandfather did. Then we are going to count your shotgun shells and put them in a plastic organizer bin.


He will have them rotating their beer in the fridge, checking copenhagen cans for outdated labels, putting cigarettes neatly in the freezer in tupperware containers. He will have them sorting out their socks by colors and weight. He will have them clipping coupons for dog food for their hunting dogs.

He will have videos on how to make organizers for nails out of baby food jars attached to pieces of old barnwood.
He will show the men how to organize their girlie magazines, white socks, fishing rods and how to keep your pick up trucks free of clutter.

Sam, you are a genious.

Talk later,

the mattresses

In my attempts to get rid of things I don't use, I listed two old mattresses I had on Freecycle. If you don't know what that is, it's a group of crazy people who give away stuff they no longer need. It's a great group. They have them all over the country. If you look under Freecyle.org you will find your nearest group. I had a woman email me who said she would pick them up at 6:00.

Great!! I got them out and had them all ready.

At six o' clock they pulled in. She was with a man whom she introduced at Joe. He was a little quiet guy. She was loud like me.

"He lost his job, had to move to a smaller apartment, and he doesn't have any mattresses." she said.

"great" I replied, I will help you load them on.

He was very quiet.

"His heat doesn't get turned on until today and he stayed there last night, he just about froze to death".

He was still very quiet.

They got into the truck and I thought quick, "hang on , I have some sheets for the beds, do you need them?"

"Yes, maam he said very quietly".

I ran and grabbed a bag of sheets I was tossing out. They were still in great shape so I was happy to give them to him.

I didn't look in the bag.

I started walking away and he said something to me.

"Thanks lady, these will match my Dinosaur blankets".

"What are you talking about?"

The woman in the car was laughing hysterically.

"I gave him my kids old dinosaur blankets today, this is so funny, do you know what is in that bag?"

"not really" I replied.

"Barney sheets!!"

We all laughed and he pulled away.

A few minutes later they pulled back in I was headed down to the barn to milk the cows.

He got out of the truck and slowly walked up to me. I could tell he had had it rough.

"I just want to tell you thanks you again maam for these things, you have no idea how much I needed them, even if they are Barney sheets.

I just stood there in silence. Holy crap, here I am feeling sorry for myself all the time because I have to work on this farm constantly. I have heat and certainly mattresses and sheets (not that I put them on the beds), but I couldn't believe it, someone was more needy than me?

I ran back into the garage, "Here is a lamp for you sir".

I threw a lamp in his truck that I was going to take to Goodwill.

"He just smiled".

They drove off.

I didn't feel so sorry for myself after that.

Talk later,

Annie

steers and queers

Sometimes I don't understand why people don't understand me. A couple of days ago Tim asked me if I had fed the steers yet. I was tired and thought I would be a smart ass so I yelled "Where are you from boy?"

"Texas!! Sir!!"

I hollered back to myself "There are only two things from Texas, steers and queers".

Tim just looked at me like I was nuts. I was trying to mimmick a movie I had seen once.

"Havent you ever seen that movie?" I said.

He just walked away like I was crazy.

It's like he's never seen any movies I have seen or any TV shows either. What planet was he on when we were kids?

To prove I am not crazy I went to You tube and found the Movie clip to show him. He had no interest. Maybe you will.

Talk later,

Annie

closet lady

To prove there really is a closet lady I will post one of her videos on here. I just love her.I really like her ideas, but you never get to see her closet. I wonder is she just made up all the crap she talks about. She looks like she has her crap together that's for sure, trendy clothes, trendy haircut, trendy earrings.

She claims that if you share a closet with your husband, that is a sure fire way to get divorced. I am so glad I watched this video, now I know what happened to my first marriage, I feel so much better now.

She tells you to throw away all of your old wire hangers, I totally don't understand that. What in the hell do you use to unplug your vacuum cleaner. What would you use for antennae wire for your radio? What would you hook your muffler onto your car with?

She has some common sense tips, but things like that scare me. Try sticking a plastic coat hanger in your radio next time it is all static. Huh, maybe I will start making videos.

She calls herself the "Average Goddess". I liked that. I think I will book myself as the "Less Than Average Goddess".

Talk later,

Annie

critical

I was reading a blog last night. The woman gives pointers about blogs. She had a list of things "not to do" with your blog. I just about died when I read the list. It went like this.

1. do not use dark background, people don't like it

crap

2. Do not have to many ads and things on your sidebar, especially flashy things.

crap, I found this new clock gadget, fell in love with it.


3. Do not get off your original subject matter.

crap, what in the hell is my original subject matter

4. Always check your spelling and grammar

crap, those red lines annoy me.

Oh well, I have always been a bit of an "odd duck" anyway. I am not gonna change things to suit her.

I will stick to the closet lady videos for a while, she's not so damn critical.

Talk later,

Annie

Haiti

OK, so I really feel bad for the people in Haiti. I don't have any money to donate to the cause so I called the Red Cross to see if I could help. The conversation went something like this.

"Hello, Jamestown Red Cross".

"Hi, my name is Anne and I would like to help the people in Haiti, do you think they might by any chance need 500 bags of used outdated stained clothes?"

Long pause.

"I don't think so maam".

"I am willing to drop them off, lady, there is alot of great retro stuff in there, I am sure the Haitians will love it".
"No thank you maam, we need donations of cash".

"I don't have any of that."

"Have a great day".

"Yeah, whatever".

It's bad when Haitians that have just lost everything they own don't even want your old clothes.

Talk later,

Annie

fashion annie

OK, so I am trying to organize my closets now. I am still hauling bags and bags of outdated stained clothes to the transfer station. Yesterday I watched a video on You tube on "how to organize your closet". I watched intently.
"Take everything out of your closet and work your way back" the lady said.

Holy crap, this will take days, not the 10 minutes I had hoped for.

I took everything out and tossed it on the bed. Now where in the hell I am supposed to sleep for the next week I have no idea, but hey it's a start.

"Now look at all the clothes you never wear and put them in a garbage bag."

I looked at the crap on my bed. All I ever wear is the same hooded sweatshirt to the barn, so I guess I could toss it all out.

I started to fill the bag and remembered the one blouse i really liked and actually fit me. It was a beautiful blouse with butterfly sleeves. I looked for the damn thing for 10 minutes. It was no where to be seen. I started tossing more crap in the bag. 20 minutes later I still have not found that blouse and my bed is still covered with clothes.

I slept on the couch last night. Certainly can't sleep on a bed filled with clothes on old rusted wire hangers.

I am still wondering where that blouse is. I had a wedding about a month ago back home. When I go "back home" I like to look half way decent so people don't think that I dress like a sea hag all the time.

I wore my "beautiful butterfly sleeve blouse" to this wedding with a black short skirt. I thought I looked very good for a 44 year old women who has had 7 kids.

I pictured myself looking graceful in my blouse like Cher did when she used to wear them or Morticia is The Adams Family, she always looked graceful as hell.

Well, I was wrong.

I got to the wedding late of course, seated the kids at the table with food and ran up to the bar in record time. When you only go out twice a year, you want to make sure you have a good time.

I poised myself at the bar, chatting with friends and family I haven't seen all summer.

"Annie, you look great, that blouse is super on you".

I knew it was working.

Until::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: my friend Bill stood next to me, put his drink on the bar, and ordered me another rum and coke. "You look fantastic Annie, how have you been?"

"Good, blah blah blah."

Just then my sister in law called me to the dance floor.

"Gotta go Bill, catch ya later".

I didn't realize he had put his drink on my beautiful butterfly sleeve that was draped half way across the bar. When I went to go dance, the drink went flying and splattered all over half the people at the bar.

"Crap, I am sorry, gotta go".

I ran off.

I danced for a with the kids and remembered I hadn't eaten my food yet. They were nice enough to save us plates, we better eat. I ate like a starved Mexican, grabbing rolls and passing them to the kids. Not paying attention at all to anything I was doing. My friends were bringing my drinks now, I didn't care.

We got done eating and ran back to the floor to dance.

"Mommy what is all over your skirt and shirt?"

"Crap, Izzy, I don't know"

My beautiful butterfly sleeve that was saturated with beer was dripping gravy all over the floor.

"Mommy you better get a napkin".

I guess I am not as graceful as I thought.

I tried.

Back to the hooded sweatshirt.

Talk later,

Annie

Issues

I have noticed that the new word of the century is "issues". We never used this word in the olden days. We used the word problems, followed by what in the hell the "problem" was.

Now we use the term "issues" and never say what in the hell the "issues" are.

For example. My daughter called and said her girlfriend has "issues". Just what those issues are I have no idea. I guess the girl is nuts.

Here is what I have come up over the past year to solve this issue thing.

Ok when you look at a truck and the guy selling it says it has "issues" what he means is that it has no brakes and the heater doesn't work.

When your girlfriend calls and says she broke up with her boyfriend because he has "issues", it means he was wearing her underwear.

When you go to look at a house for sale and they tell you it has "issues", what they mean is it needs a new well and the furnace is broken.

When you go to buy a cow and they tell you she has "issues", they mean she kicks like hell.

When you go to rent a farm and they tell you it has "issues", it means the land is so damn wet you will never get the crops off.

Talk later,

Annie

ok another dumb video about me

organized Annie

Janet called this morning. "Hey, what's up with your blog? You don't have any new posts just those stupid videos. I hate those stupid videos. People want to read your blog, not watch stupid videos".

Crap.

The truth is I have been so busy trying to organize my house I didn't have time to put a new post on here. I am on a first name basis with the guys down at the transfer station. The guys at Valu automatically grab 10 of those plastic bins thingys every time I go in the store now because they know I am going to buy them anyway. I have everything in little plastic bins now. Everything. Food, toys, everything.

I am tossing out one garbage bag of clothes out of my house everyday. That is my goal for the month. I have done it everyday for a week and it doesn't even look like I have taken out pair of socks let alone 7 bags of clothes.

I just have too much Crap.

I am a reformed Crap hoarder.

Talk later,

Annie

Flylady

OK click on the lady with the wings, that the Flylady. That picture will take you to her site. I warn you, it's scary.

on this cleaning thing

Ok, I admit it, I am the world's worst housekeeper. I am reforming myself, like the Bumble in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

I cleaned my kitchen today. Did all the dishes and washed and shined the sink like the Flylady told me to do. Her website is killing me. I have no idea how I am supposed to keep the kitchen clean, so I ran down to Valu and bought a roll of that Yellow tape that they put around work sites so people don't go in there. Kind of like a crime scene. I figure if no one goes in the kitchen, we can eat in the garage every day and it will stay clean.

Talk later,

Annie

Nanny goats

OK i found this awesome blog. You are probably wondering what the goat thingy is on this blog. I want you to click on it after you read my blog in the morning with your coffee. This lady is hysterical. I don't know her, never met her. I don't have a life so I read blogs for fun and this is one of the best ones.

Oh yeah, Janet's is Great too I just have to figure out how to put hers on here.

I just had to tell you why in the hell I have a goat on my blog.

Talk later

Annie

A quick Thank You

I get emails about this blog almost everyday. I just want to say "Thank you guys for reading my crap." It is like therapy for me. I love the emails and comments.

Today I posted some more stuff on that farm I used to live on in Dewittville for a dear friend who emailed me last night and wanted to see more stuff on it.

We all have a "story".

This blog is my way of telling mine.

Some of us have "Many stories".

Talk later,

Annie

This is more cool stuff on that farm in Dewittville

1857 INVESTIGATION:

This is an old and dilapidated building of wood and brick, erected in 1832, in size thirty-two by ninety-six, with a wing, twenty-four by sixty feet, aside from these is a small building for the insane; attached is a farm of one hundred and sixty acres, yielding a revenue of $2,000.There are no basements. The rooms are warmed by stoves, but are without means of ventilation. The number of inmates was fifty-six; forty males, sixteen females. Of these forty-six are native born, ten foreign, and seven under sixteen years of age. The sexes are separated only at night; they are under two keepers, male and female. In one room as many as thirty-two persons were placed.

The average number of inmates is one hundred and thirty, supported at a weekly cost of forty-four cents. The paupers are employed on the farm and about the house. The house has not been visited during the year by supervisors. It is supplied with Bibles; through no provision is made for religious instruction they often have service on the Sabbath. A common school is taught in the house during six or eight months of the year. The fare of the paupers is plain and wholesome and supplied by the keeper. For medical attendance a physician is called when needed and paid per visit. During the year there have occurred six births and seventeen deaths. They have no pest house.

Of the inmates twelve are lunatics; six males, and six females; all are paupers and six of them have been treated at the State asylum. They have no particular medical attendance. A small wooden building, size twenty-six by forty feet, has recently been erected for their accommodation, though hardly fitted for its designed purpose. The cells are small, illy ventilated and constructed of rough hemlock boards and plank, in which the lunatics are confined with no bedding but straw, and an insufficient supply of clothing. The building is so open that it is impossible properly to warm it in winter. Four are confined in cells. They are also sometimes restrained by the "mittens". The construction of the house is such as to allow classification; the power of discharge is exercised by the superintendents. Application has been made during the year, for admission to the Utica asylum in six cases, and as often refused. The lunatics sometimes escape and are never again heard from. Ten of the paupers are idiotic, all males. There is one blind. Two-thirds are brought here through intemperance.

Benny Hill

OK, raise your hand if you are old enough to remember Benny Hill. In the olden days, you know the 1970's, we had Benny Hill. He was an outlaw in our house. My mom hated that show. It really got under her skin.

We loved it.

My Dad would adjust the coat hanger on our TV which was the size of a modern day microwave and he would tune into the "Canadian" stations. In those days we didn't have cable, so this was quite a feat.

I still remember my mother hollering to us in the living room "Is that Benny Hill I hear, you better turn it off!!".

My Dad would whisper "Go turn down the volume, there is nothing wrong with Benny Hill".

We felt like we were doing something really "bad". It was great. There would be this dirty old man ,you know, Benny, he would be chasing around all these gorgeous girls in go-go boots. I loved go-go boots, but they wouldn't zip up around my legs, guess I am not the go-go boot type. Crap.

My Dad would be in there laughing his ass off. It was so funny. Sometimes Mom would come in and literally change the channel. That was even funnier.

Here's hats off to old "Benny"

Talk later,

Annie

keeping up the pace or organizing my crap

OK I bought like a million of those plastic sheet protectors and I am making lists like crazy. Putting all my crap in one place. This is exhausting me. I have alot of crap. Last night at the dinner table Tim asked me "What are you doing?". I replied "Organizing my crap dear".

Silence.

"oh"

He walked away. I don't think he believes I can do it. Well, this is one project I swear I will finish. It may take me the WHOLE year, but I will do it. I guess I'm not going anywhere so what the hell.

I started throwing away crap this week out of my closet that I don't need. I literally filled up the garage with stuff like unfinished projects, clothes that don't fit anyone in this house or anyone in this county for that matter, things I was going to paint, glue together, etc. I had to make 2 trips to the dumps.

I found another organizing site. It's called www.Flylady.com. This lady is amazing. She is the Ghandi of organization. Even has videos to prove it. I was impressed. Holy crap. She's a little harsh, reminds me of my Mom. She actually wants you to keep your sink clean. You know wash you dishes after every meal. I thought you were supposed to wait until there are no more dishes left in the cupboards, then start washing those gross things. When I am feeding the kids cereal out of coffee mugs, I know it's time to look for the dishsoap. It's usually in the bathroom, you know, red neck bubble bath.

Ok I can't talk long, I have to go find the dishsoap and do the dishes, I feel like my Mom has moved in with me. Do I even have to clean out that gross strainer thingy in the bottom of the sink. Come on now man, go easy on me!!

Talk later,

Annie

those little holes

Ok so it's day two on Organization Annie. I went to the basement and found some old nails and I nailed a million of them all over the kitchen. I hung everything I could find on those nails. I am so proud of myself it's not funny. As I was doing this, I noticed that just about everything has a "little hole" in it for this purpose. Hairbrushes, ice scrapers and so on.

Wow, who in the hell thought of that idea?

Ben Franklin?

Talk later,
Annie

my life in a binder

OK i admit it. I have a problem. I am the most unorganized human being on the face of the planet.

This year as God as my witness, I am going to organize my crap. Next year I will use spellcheck. I said next year.

I found an awesome website called www.KeepingTheHome.com.This girl must be something else. She homeschools her kids and is super organized, or so she claims. She keeps everything in a huge binder that has to do with her daily schedule. It's quite amazing really.

Things like schedules, phone numbers, recipes, crap like that. I have these things written on millions of pieces of paper scattered throughout my house and barn, and of course in the bottom of my washing machine.

I will keep you informed of my progression. I actually bought the binder. That is a start.

I was told once by a very successful businessman friend of mine (yes, I do have one successful businessman friend), "If you want to be thin, hang with thin people, if you want to be successful, hang with successful people".

I want to be organized so I will "hang" with this lady.

Here are the diffferences between her and me.

1. She homeschools her kids, I shoot off a flaregun every morning so the bus doesn't forget my kids.

2. She plans her menus, I have cereal every night for supper.

3. She writes down all important things in a binder, I write them on brown barn paper towels, put them in my coveralls, and wash them in the washing machine so I can never read them again.

4. She wears dresses every day, I haven't worn a dress since my first wedding in 1985.

I can do this folks. Rome wasn't built in a day.

I will show you my progress as I figure it out. I have a feeling it will take me all year, but what the hell,I ain't goin' nowhere.

Talk later,

Annie

Mom, I am not full of crap, really

It seems like my whole life my mom has been telling me "Anne, you are full of crap". Actually everyone tells me that, my sister, my boyfriend, everyone.

I love to tell stories and I will admit I might tend to "embellish" them a bit once in a while, but I am not full of crap. The main story is true, usually.

I love the computer because now I can print out articles or "cut and paste" as my friend Ann puts it, and prove I AM NOT FULL OF CRAP.

Ok here is an example.

We moved to that farm in Dewittville, New York and my mom called. "Anne, how are the kids?"

"Good Mom"

"How was the move?"

"It sucked Mom, how are you?"

"Good"

"Oh, Mom the other day there was this old guy here and he told me there is a cemetery on this property that has 1500 people buried in it 4 deep, can you believe that?"

"How are the kids, Anne?"

"Mom, did you hear what I just said?, it used to be the county poor farm here".

"Anne, how are the kids?"

"Mom, did you hear what I just said?"

Long pause.

"Anne, that's illegal to bury that many people that deep, he must have been telling you a lie or story, don't believe everything you hear from old men".

"Mom, I walked back there, it's real I tell ya. There are markers with 4 numbers on each one. That tells who is buried under there. There is a list somewhere out there that tells who is buried there".

Another long pause.

"Anne, I know you are under alot of stress, I will call you again tomarrow, say hello to the kids".

I hung up and knew damn well she didn't believe a flippin' word I said.

NOW I CAN PRINT THIS CRAP OFF THE COMPUTER.

My girlfriend gave me a printer and I actually saved up a million dollars for the ink. I printed off the cemetery stuff to send to Mom.

With my luck she will think I typed it and made up the whole thing.


Talk later,

Annie

the weird cemetary

I have found a few more articles to show you the farm in Dewittville. There was this weird cemetery there. Real weird. I was told there was 1500 people buried in it. This article says 600. They are buried 4 deep and have numbers for headstone markers. They don't know who half of them are. There is this list with some of the names.

It's weird.

The farm itself is ALONG ways from the cemetery. I was told that in the winter "Do you really think they took those people all the way back there?". Alot of old folks used to tell me not to put in a garden.

Get the picture?

Talk later

Annie

Chautauqua poor farm & Cemetery

This history was found printed on the back of a photograph of the Chautuaqua County Poor Farm and has been transcribed as is.

In 1831 the Chautauqua County Board of Supervisors purchased 90 acres of land in Dewittville for $900. In 1832 he County contracted with George Hall to construct a house to accommodate "at least 100 paupers." The building was described as "a substantial brick county-house, 94 feet long & 32 feet wide" and cost $2400. By 1833, the cemetery for the poor farm was established.


The poor farm became a refuge for the country's poor, lame, insane, blind, sick, abandoned, and abused. Residents were housed, clothed, fed, and cared for by a resident administrator and his family. No separate accommodations were provided for the sick, and residents helped to monitor and care for each other.


In1846 additional acreage was purchased, in 1850 a second building was constructed to house the insane, and another building was added in 1857. In 1858, the weekly expense for supporting each resident was $.78, the value of the labor of the residents was $2524, and the expenses associated with the poor farm were $5094. The number of paupers relieved or supported through the poor farm was 4106.


In 1867 a new three-story building for the insane was erected at the cost of $17,965. A doctor visited the residents daily, and made special visits when needed. In 1869 the doctor's annual salary was $225.


From 1833 until 1858, over thirty children were reported yearly as residents of the poor farm. Some children were born there, some were vagrants, and some arrived with their parents. Children between the ages of five and sixteen were to be schooled just as any child attending a common school in the state.


In 1961 [sic], the County Home was relocated to a new facility erected at Dunkirk, and the Dewittville property (excepting the cemetery) was sold.


In 1864 a new addition to the cemetery was opened and a monument was placed in the existing cemetery. The monument, which still stands, reads In memory of the inmates of the Chautauqua County Poor House who died and were buried here from 1833 to 1864, about 600 in number. Blessed are ye Poor for yours is the Kingdom of God.


Beginning in 1864, graves were marked with rectangular numbered stones, and later with round numbered stones. Records kept at the Chautauqua County Home have enabled us to identify approximately 250 individuals who were interred at the cemetery. For the most part, we do not have a record of the grave number assigned to each burial site.


In 1991, a group of volunteers began clearing the cemetery property to locate all existing markers. The markers were placed in close proximity to their original locations.

t’s chilly, barely 45 degrees. The cemetery is hidden from the road by thick woods, but a clearing opens after a 200-foot walk up a narrow, muddy path. A few feet in front of me lies a tree that has fallen across the clearing. The moon is bright, illuminating the gravestones that are scattered haphazardly beyond the fallen tree.

There are no signs of the glowing orbs people claim to witness in this place, but I could have sworn I saw a glowing red pinpoint far off into the woods to my left as I walked up the path leading to the cemetery.

I can hear the whisper of a nearby stream, and the leaves falling to the ground all around me sound almost like footsteps. Suddenly, there’s a loud noise in the woods behind me. It sounded like something heavy falling to the ground.

???

Every once in a while, Gilbert Hayward of Mayville helps maintain the Poor House Cemetery off Meadows Road outside Dewittville. Adjacent to Landmark Acres, a dairy farm owned by Gerald Perry and his son Bob, the cemetery dates back to the days of some of Chautauqua Lake’s earliest settlers.

It also boasts a notorious reputation.

‘‘I don’t know how much stock I’d put into it. The imagination sort of plays tricks on you,’’ Hayward said. ‘‘It’s just sort of a feeling that I can’t put into words.’’

Though Hayward said he has never witnessed anything out of the ordinary there, the cemetery has an unfavorable reputation and is sometimes cited as one of the most haunted places in Chautauqua County.

The farm in Dewittville

All the old buildings have been torn down and there was a beautiful milking facility there when we rented it.

It was pictureque

Unfortunately they sold the farm, so we had to move on. I left the ghosts behind. I have put some cool articles on here about the place. Kinda neat if you're into history.

Dumb if you are not

We used to rent this property (really) i am not kidding

5620 Meadows Road
Dewittville, NY 14728
Town of Chautauqua

Shown on the 1854 Wall Map of Chautauqua County as the “Poor House,” and on the 1867 Atlas of Chautauqua County as the “County Poor House,” the farm at approximately 5620 Meadows Road was shown again on the 1881 Atlas of Chautauqua County as the “County Farm,” with an “Asylum” and an “Alms House.” The alms house had been replaced about 12 years earlier. By the late twentieth century, it had disappeared. The following information is extracted from an article entitled “Over the bridge of Sighs: Like Former Residents the Old Poor House is Abandoned and Run Down,” by Jim Fox, Mayville Bureau, Evening Observer, Dunkirk-Fredonia, NY, Wednesday, December 6, 1972.

Across the little bridge that spans the creek they brought their luggage, a carpetbag of ragged clothes, a copper kettle and the fragments of their broken lives. These were the poor, the insane, the bastard child, the unwed mother, the orphan boy and girl. Before them loomed, through the elm and pine trees across a carefully tended lawn, what seemed like a vision of paradise: the warm red brick of imposing buildings, the sharp redolence of barns, and more distantly, the honking of geese and confused mutter of a chicken house in full session. This was the “poor house.” This was Dewittville, that final port of call for those who lived bad or luckless lives, lost their property or violated the laws of morality and thus were called upon to pay the price. This was the place which, down to this day, boys and girls are schooled to avoid, because to go there meant falling into that final degradation, the public charity, the poor house and the twilight end of a wasted life. In coming to the mansion and its outbuildings, truly a self-sufficient world and society closed in upon itself, they passed by what must be their end: the grass covered little plot under the trees beside the brook, downstream from the bridge, where in largely unmarked, unmourned graves, those who had died “on the dole” were put away in pine coffins hewn from trees that grew upon this land and fashioned by hands bound to the same labor of poverty into which they were now entering.

Across this bridge in the late fall of 1878 came one Silas Grant, and his wife Rebecca. With them came “one horse, one old gray mare, a copper kettle and a clean linen sheet in which to wind themselves when they were dead.” No one knows how this old man and his wife came to pass over the bridge of sighs across Dewittville Creek and seek public charity. They were entered upon the rolls that November, but in spring they were discharged. Next fall, “they did return as before, yet without said gray mare which they had, during the summer, eaten.” Today the same buildings can be seen from the road that branches northeastward from Dewittville. In 1961, the county sold this complex and its approximately 400 acres to private interests, and within recent months, it has been sold again, having passed through a number of hands in the last 13 years. The great main building with its five-story tower, 17 feet square, still looms above the trees like a lighthouse of hope in a cold world. The red brick, butter soft and manufactured on the premises by the Cherry Creek builder (Silas Vinton) who erected the structure in 1867-70, glows warmly in the late fall afternoon sun, trying to hide the scars which lack of attention and time have afflicted. Like Daphne DuMaurier’s great house of Mandalay, its windows seem to flicker with the fire of life, hiding the collapsed wall where the bricks exploded and fell some winters before, when water between their courses froze and expanded. The second building, which was the hospital (and originally the insane asylum), stands gap-doored, many of its windows missing, a torn shade flapping in the wind. In back, the long veranda of what was the “married quarters,” a wing connecting the two main buildings, is empty and silent and hiding in its shadows the ghosts of men and women who spent their last days there.

The huge elm tree which guarded the center of the lawn is now amputated of limbs and stripped of bark, a gray spectre among the evergreens’ brilliance. The fountain is gone, its cast metal boy pouring water from a boot translated to Dunkirk and the new infirmary. It is one of two such fountains. The other is in Hershey, PA. It pays tribute to an Austrian drummer boy who, during the battle of Austerlitz in 1805, carried water to the wounded in his boot. The structure itself was a monument to the wounded. When it was erected in 1867, it was a source of great pride to the men, the supervisors of Chautauqua County, who found the $32,000 needed to build it. Aaron Hall of Jamestown designed it….By 1830, the county was growing and had attracted many immigrants, some of them unable to feed and clothe themselves. The township “poor masters” were in competition to drive these indigent people from town to town, so that they could not claim a year’s residence and thus become a charge upon the township taxpayers. The county as a whole paid for them if they lacked residency in a given town for 12 consecutive months. The county poor were, before the first poor house was built in 1833, “farmed out.” The poor, the unwed pregnant girl, the orphan, the insane, were all put upon the auction block each December and they went to the family which bid the least for them. Some went for as little as a penny a week, 52 cents a year, charged to the county by the family that took them.

This soon, of course, became a scandal. In 1830, the supervisors purchased the 90-acre Todd farm near Dewittville for $900, and in the next three years, erected thereon a poor house of brick. Its first inmate was Jacob Lockwood, “a lunatic (who) remained a permanent boarder for over 30 years….” The man who looked after him was William Gifford, the first keeper of the poor, who set up housekeeping “with his wife, and a cow, a barrel of good beef and shoats” before January 1, 1833. Though made of brick and sturdy, the poor house lasted only about 35 years. It had cost about $3500 to build. Rather than try to patch it, the supervisors decided in 1867 to build a new one. Said Mr. Bishop at the conclusion of his history, “The work has been well and wisely done….It will probably meet all the wants of the Poor Department for many years to come…perhaps until the first decade of the new century.” It lasted longer than that, just short of a hundred years. Burton G. Miner, last resident superintendent at the home, recalls into what a state it had fallen when he began his career there. The first night, he said, he and his wife had to keep moving their bed around the room because the rain was pouring in through the roof. Not only that, but because the floors had settled badly, they had to take the casters off the bed to keep it from rolling by itself. Yet, even so, the colony was self-sustaining. A huge Dutch oven in the basement baked 200 loaves at a time. The farm provided beef, pork, lamb, grains, vegetables and fruit. There was a schoolhouse for the children of the poor and the staff. For a while the colony had its own direct current electric generating plan run by a steam boiler. Water came from two reservoirs formed by damming the creeks in the hills above the farm. In the tower was a huge cypress water tank for firefighting and in the basement, a big steam pump. Also in the basement, fixed to the stone walls, were arm and leg irons for those among the insane deemed to be “unruly,” an appliance to which Mr. Miner never had recourse because the insane and retarded had long before been removed from the establishment. Now there are only a few workmen cutting down timber or tending the chickens who inhabit the old cow barn. The main buildings stand vacant, falling slowly into the ground, an historical monument inhabited only by the ghosts of the forgotten men and women who ended their days here, never to be viewed as an historical monument, perhaps, because of its associations. There also remains the quiet and peace and the whisper of a long past time. For whatever else it was, and whatever end of the road it represented, the Poor House was a haven against all storms, a brick fortress against life. Now time and the elements are claiming it. There are none to mourn except the dead.

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