After Years of Crop Dusting

…friends, bandmates, my wife, our son…I was crop dusted tonight and not the loveable, ‘Ooops I let out some stank on my way to get another beer’

I WAS CROP DUSTED BY AN ACTUAL FUCKING PLANE!

The 3^rd hole on South Pointe has a cornfield on the right. A plane much like this one, kept looping around, getting lower with each pass. Finally it was forty or so feet overhead (I can’t judge this shit by the way, so don’t trust my figures) and let loose some sorta spray over the row of corn closest to me.

Didya get any Onya?

Ok that was not the Weasels Ripped my Flesh “classic” but it’ll do.

None got on me, but I sure could smell the liquid-death-from-the-sky being sprayed. I shook my PW in the general direction of flyboy like one of those fake-ass uncontacted tribes and spewed unheard vulgarities heavenward.

Later, I hit one that landed in a coal car on a slow moving, passing train on the 6^th hole.

I’ll bet that one is still going.