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Kansas Farmer, Crop Adjuster, married (way out of my league), father of two.

Haysville, KS
Joined April 2021
Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)Photo by Fringe Farmer (@DaveDejmal)
16 years together 12 years married Still bald
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Need to update my balance sheet
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My wife is doing a “Farm Day” for her business. We scheduled it for this time of year because I’m usually done with harvest…not this year, but guess who is still cleaning all of his equipment mid harvest? This guy
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Lost the last calf tonight…..Yeah not gonna lie, this is not a great feeling. Wish I could’ve done something to help. I don’t think you need a pic of that one so here is a different one.
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I need to speak with the manager on “Dark” The dubbed dialogue and the subtitles need to match. Please fix this abomination
Netflix Shows Ranked from Peak to Never Again
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This is the best account and it’s really nufd
My car wouldn't start in a Tractor Supply parking lot in Tennessee, so I opened the hood. I know nothing about engines. In American movies, opening the hood is how a man calls for help. It works outside the movies too. The first one arrived in under two minutes with a fifty-pound bag of chicken feed on his shoulder. No hello. He set the feed on my bumper, put his hands on his hips, and looked into my engine. Then a man from a truck hauling fence posts. Hands on hips. Then an older man came out of the store holding a receipt. He had not finished paying. Through the window I could see the cashier still holding his card. I think he heard the hood. Nobody touched anything. Nobody asked my name. Three strangers stood around my engine like it was a campfire. "Battery," said Chicken Feed. "Could be the starter," said Fence Posts. "It's not the starter," said Receipt. Fence Posts made a clicking noise with his mouth to show what a bad starter sounds like. Receipt said that was the wrong click and did his own, and for a while two grown men in Tennessee just clicked at each other. I did not interrupt. It felt religious. It was the battery. The terminals were crusted white. Chicken Feed walked to his truck, came back with a can of Coca-Cola, cracked it, and poured it on my battery. "Has to be Coke." "Pepsi works," said Fence Posts. "Pepsi does not work, Ronnie." "It's the same acid!" "Then why'd God make Coke?" I looked it up that night. Men have been having this exact argument online since at least 2004. The sun was going down. Receipt said, "Somebody hold a light," and a flashlight was in my hand. I pointed it at the battery. "Not there. Where I'm looking." I moved it. "Where I'm looking NOW." For ten minutes I chased an old man's eyes around an engine with a beam of light. I have trained with a sword for twenty years. Nothing has ever asked more of my wrists. Then, without looking up, Receipt said, "Don't watch my hands, son. Watch my face. Took my daddy eleven years of yelling to teach me that." So I watched his face. I saw where he was going to look before he looked, and the light was already waiting there. He stopped correcting me. The car started on the first try. Nobody cheered. Chicken Feed took his feed back off my bumper, Fence Posts said "There ya go," and in under a minute they were gone, the way they came. I was closing my hood when a truck two rows over wouldn't turn over. Up went its hood. A father, and a boy of maybe nine. I walked over with the flashlight. I did not ask. I put the light where the father's eyes were about to go. He glanced at me. Then at his son. "Watch how he holds it."
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Fringe Farmer retweeted
Tried to implement the dad tax last night and the boy informed me the first $17,000 in candy was tax free. They grow up so fast.
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Older generations: “People were fine when I was a kid. We didn’t have all these diagnoses kids have now.” Also older generations: “Only real ones remember this”
When Monster Mash comes on this Halloween, just remember: The guy who sang it looked like this the entire time 👀
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Still waiting on 3, but these little guys are fun to watch
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In America, a hardware store called Harbor Freight. I walked in to buy one roll of black electrical tape. Seventy-nine cents. At the register, a bearded clerk named Frank scanned my tape, reached beneath the counter, and placed a massive red five-gallon plastic bucket between us. "Free bucket weekend," he said. I looked at the price tag on the bucket. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents. I looked at my tape. Seventy-nine cents. I stood before the register while basic arithmetic died in my hands. "The vessel costs six times the tribute," I informed him. "If you do this for every customer, your house will fall before winter." "Been doing it for years, chief. Take the bucket." In my land, when a lord grants you a vessel larger than your purchase, you are expected to fill it in his service. I held the wire handle with both hands and asked Frank what a man does with such a bucket. He looked at me the way a monk looks at an uninitiated boy. "Everything," Frank said, "except carry water." I thought he was speaking in riddles. He was speaking the literal law of the land. I have now inspected four garages on my street, and I must report that the entire residential infrastructure of the United States rests upon five-gallon plastic buckets. Nobody puts water in them. The first bucket holds rusty bolts from machines that died during the Bush administration. The second bucket is inverted so a man can sit on it while staring at a lawnmower he has no intention of fixing today. The third bucket is an emergency step-stool so a father can stand fourteen inches closer to a smoke detector that will not stop chirping. I carried my red bucket home and set it beside my garage door. On Saturday morning, my seventy-four-year-old neighbor Walt walked past my driveway with his coffee. He stopped. He looked at the red bucket. Then he looked at me. Without a word, Walt walked back to his own garage, returned sixty seconds later, and dropped a brand-new yellow sponge and a brass hose nozzle into my bucket. "Saw you finally got your bucket," Walt said, tapping the plastic rim twice. "Welcome to the street, kid." I spent seventy-nine cents on tape. They gave me a throne, a toolbox, and citizenship on my block.
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Schools created Idiom Day to replace Halloween because they hate parents Of course now we have to come up with a completely different, unique, original costume the day before Halloween
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This guy should get all of the revenue from all of the clicks and views not the kid
‘MY LIFE IS HARD AS IT IS, I DON’T NEED THIS CRAP!’ — Grocery store worker SNAPS at clout-chasing kids Teens tried to apologize to the man with four kids and a mortgage, but it didn’t look sincere to him
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I wonder how many pounds of dirt I’m selling per load?
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We all just collectively decided carbonated water in a can was normal and never talked about it
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Fringe Farmer retweeted
God bless the mobile tire men
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Doing everything it can to hang on Just like my sanity this growing season
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I need an “all of the above” option. Getting spam texts multiple times a day
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Thunderbirds were leaving trails around Wichita the last few days
Cloud seeding was crazy in Kansas yesterday. Will see what if any storms bring ⛈️ Still visible at night.
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The fruits of our labor
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Fringe Farmer retweeted
Kids soccer game. TF is wrong with people these days?
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I’m still having a hard time understanding what would go through someone’s mind to do what that person did. My son had a soccer game today. He rolled his ankle a couple weeks ago and it was still sore this morning. We decided to keep him out of his game today at Stryker
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I can’t imagine what those families are going through right now. Prayers for everyone involved. Just an absolutely horrible situation.
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