Chickens in the cloud

We were working on our pugnacious old D7, that's the one with the pony motor and the hand clutch that'll rip your arm off, because it gives us this tingle of intrepidness to embellish the task of clearing three inches of snow off our drive. Somehow the cloud of diesel smoke wafting away into evanescence got us thinking since the cloud was all the rage out there, why not bring it to the bush. We had first considered the enterprise of raising virtual chickens and pigs and cows and of course complete with virtual excrement, and to sell them for virtual money so we could pay our virtual hydro bill and live in virtual warmth, but then winter would come along and we'd freeze our virtual buts off, so we sort of decided to pass on that one, because string theory aside, winter isn't all that virtual.

This cloud thing however, it has real possibilities. We could raise our cows and chickens and pigs along with their feed in the cloud, so to speak. If each hick out here got together and we created a few misty meadows out in the bush where we could keep all our livestock, and a few more misty ramparts to stash the feed in, why look at the possibilities. We could focus on maximizing the effectiveness of our shared resources by dynamically reallocating them per demand. So if Joe over there wanted a chicken or two to feed his nine kids, he could just call up the widow Rachael who we could hire as our full time data central and she wouldn't have to wink so much at the local bachelors to make ends meet. She could get Bob and his brother Bob and his other brother Bob to deliver them toot sweet and they could have a real job to keep them out of adversity. And all of us hicks, why we'd have all the time in the world to get a real job to pay for all this innovativeness. On second thought, that's what we toil away at already, and it may be easier just to raise our own chickens and cows and pigs. And the good widow Rachael and Bob and his brother Bob and his other brother Bob all kind of get titillated with the life they have anyhow, with all due respect. Oh how this intrepidness clouds the brain.

Well, the drive is clean right down to the bedrock, and a steaming hot cup of coffee will put our intrepidness right up there on cloud number nine, so till next time, keep the pot covered, eh.