Today’s strip reminds me of a story I once heard.
There was an old farmer, set in his ways. His son went to college and came back with all kinds of new-fangled ways to ‘maximize profits.’ He no longer wanted to hear his dad’s old advice, about snakes on the road or frogs chirping, relying instead on science or innovation.
He upgraded all their equipment, used his smart phone to run their irrigation system, bought drones to guard the sheep from wolves instead of the old donkey. But most contentious between father and son was changing the way they handled the manure from their feedlot and pig sheds. The old farmer had always dry composted it for fertilizer, but his son badgered him to build huge wet lagoons covered in plastic tarps to collect all the methane to generate electricity.
Everything went fine. Until one May, it rained and rained and rained and rained, until the lagoons were full to the brim with a fecal slurry. It was on a May day, during the heart of tornado season that a dark funnel cloud formed south of their farm. Touching down over the hog buildings and their very new, very full lagoons, and then headed straight toward the farm house.
“Dad! Dad! We gotta get to the cellar!” The son shouted over the howling wind.
“I got one thing I have to do!” The dad shouted back, as he ran out to the stock barns.
The son followed him at a sprint. His dad grabbed an dusty oil cloth and threw it over the old guard donkey in it’s stall.
“Dad! What the hell are you doing!” His son yelled!
“Son.” the old farmer said, solemnly, “Every old farmer knows, when a shitstorm is coming, you gotta cover your ass.”
Now look at that pile of ‘comic-books’ and tell me that Rusty’s store, (and us by extension) didn’t just get overwhelmed by a massive shitstorm.