Fecal matter is life. I will not be dissuaded. Wake up.

Wilbur? Do not say that name to my face. Get the hell out.

Stomachs. Chunky stomachs. That is sexual arousal.

I only did the Star Wars for monetary gain.

I surmised that the area directly around & within the president's ball room smells bad. Take it from me.

Cow pies are the lie. What could be, is only the opposite. Why do they lie to us like this?

If the fog drifts past my hooves, I then know that the dread of the day has become perpetual.

Turnips. Do not deny their fortitude. You, who is only concerned with your taste buds.

As an erudite barnyard animal, I may be biased, but this is television at it's greatest. www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-lU...

Crustaceans. That is it. That is the declarative statement.

Jesus would have wanted us all to be covered in mud. To be accepting of the filth and fury.

Sometimes it's nein. Sometimes it's neigh.

Before feed, after feed. During the feed. These thoughts must be pried from my duplicitous nature.

The weather is a succubus, rendering me adrift as I lean against the pig pen.

A dire farm is one that will persist. It's dread nourishes the cycle.

Old MacDonald, an utter bastard.

I have viewed you from across the water trough & that is where the light best suits you.

Disgusting to see what humans recreationally do with my shoes. Disgusting, I say.

Excrement isn't so bad. It could be worse. It could be invisible.

I am daunted by the unknowns behind the eyes of the chickens.

Hello, blue sky. There are wonders I hope to show.

Oats. All I see are oats. Between the blades of grass. Smothered in the dirt. Everywhere, there are oats.