An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse named Buddy.

He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, “Pull, Nellie, pull.” Buddy didn’t move.

Then the farmer hollered, “Pull, Buster, pull.” Buddy didn’t respond.

Once more the farmer commanded, “Pull, Jennie, pull.” Nothing.

Then the farmer nonchalantly said, “Pull, Buddy, pull.” And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch.

The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times.

The farmer said, “Oh, Buddy is blind, and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn’t even try!”

A farmer was driving along the road with a load of fertilizer. A little boy, playing in front of his house, saw him and called, “What’ve you got in your truck?”

“Fertilizer,” the farmer replied.

“What are you going to do with it?” asked the little boy.

“Put it on strawberries,” answered the farmer.

“You ought to live here,” the little boy advised him. “We put sugar and cream on ours.”

A big-city California lawyer went duck hunting in rural Iowa He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s field on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer climbed over the fence, an elderly farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing.

The attorney responded, “I shot a duck and it fell in this field, and now I’m going in to retrieve it.”

The old farmer replied, “This is my property, and you are not coming over here. ”

The indignant lawyer said, “I am one of the best trial attorneys in the U. S. ; and, if you don’t let me get that duck, I’ll sue you and take everything you own. ”

The old farmer smiled and said, “Apparently, you don’t know how we do things in Iowa. We settle small disagreements like this with the Iowa Three-Kick Rule.”

The lawyer asked, “What is this three-kick Rule? ”

The farmer replied, “Well, first I kick you three times and then you kick me three times, and so on, back and forth, until someone gives up. ”

The attorney quickly thought about the proposed contest and decided that he could easily take the old codger. He agreed to abide by the local custom.

The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the city feller. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy work boot into the lawyer’s groin and dropped him to his knees. His second kick nearly wiped the man’s nose off his face. The barrister was flat on his belly when the farmer’s third kick to a kidney nearly caused him to give up.

The lawyer summoned every bit of his will and managed to get to his feet and said, “Okay, you old coot, now it’s my turn. ”

The old farmer smiled and said, “Naw, I give up. You can have the duck.

An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse, named Buddy. He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, “Pull, Nellie, pull!” Buddy didn’t move.

Then the farmer hollered, “Pull, Buster, pull!” Buddy didn’t respond.

Once more the farmer commanded, “Pull, Coco, pull!” Nothing.

Then the farmer nonchalantly said, “Pull, Buddy, pull!” And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch.

The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times.

The farmer said, “Oh, Buddy is blind and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn’t even try.”

(Now at Camp Pendleton, San Diego, Marine Corps Recruit Training)

Dear Ma and Pa:

I am well. Hope you are too. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay… practically nothing. Men got to shave but it’s not so bad… there’s warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you ’til noon when you get fed again. It’s no wonder these city boys can’t walk much.

We go on “route marches,” which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it’s not my place to tell him different. A “route march” is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

The country is nice but awful flat. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don’t bother you none.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don’t know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don’t move, and it ain’t shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain’t like fighting with that ole bull at home. I’m about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I’m only 5′6″ and 130 pounds and he’s 6′8″ and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join up before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding on in.

Your loving daughter,
Alice

After pulling a farmer over for speeding, a state trooper started to lecture him about his speed, pompously implying that the farmer didn’t know any better and trying to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. He finally started writing out the ticket, but had to keep swatting at some flies buzzing around his head.

The farmer said, “Having some problems with circle flies there are ya?”

The trooper paused to take another swat and said, “Well, yes, if that’s what they are. I’ve never heard of circle flies.”

The farmer was pleased to enlighten the cop. “Circle flies are common on farms. They’re called circle flies because you almost always find them circling the back end of a horse.”

The trooper continues writing for a moment, then says,” Hey, are you trying to call me a horse’s behind?”

“Oh no, officer.” The farmer replies. “I have too much respect for law enforcement and police officers for that.”

“That’s a good thing,” the officer says rudely, then goes back to writing the ticket.

After a long pause, the farmer added, “Hard to fool them flies, though.”