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As I recall, it was a few summers ago,
on a farm in northern or maybe central Indiana. I think it happened
something like this:
Horse: I overheard two humans talking yesterday, while they cleaned
out the barn. One of them said that the moon was made out of cheese.
Cow: Oh, Moo! Did they say what kind?
Horse: Well, it almost sounded like he said it was green cheese.
Cow: Humph! I never heard of any green cheese. You must be mistaken.
Horse: Now don't go saying that. I know what I heard. The moon is
made of cheese.
Cow: I know a few things about cheese. More than you do, I dare say.
If the moon is made of cheese, then it must be a hard white cheese.
Although, it does sometimes look a little like a bleu cheese.
Horse: Nay, nay. He didn't say anything of the sort. He said it was
green cheese -- or something that sounded like "green".
Cow: You know, Horse, you do display your ignorance. I am a cow and
cows know about dairy. I'm telling you that the moon is not green at
all. It's mostly white, sometimes yellow, and sometimes big and
blotchy. Never green. And there is no green cheese that I know of,
anyway.
Horse: Oh, you cows think you're so smart. But you forget that
humans have the telescopes, and they have big rockets. They also
have lots of books, and schools, and TV and stuff. If they say the
moon is made of green cheese, then that's good enough for me.
Cow: Now don't get all smarty-pants with me! Cheese comes from cows
(and a few goats), and never from humans at all. They don't know
cheese from bread. I know what I'm talking about, and you should
just stick to your oats.
Horse: Well, prove to me that the moon is made of white or bleu
cheese. Show me a piece of the moon, you silly cow ...
And so the argument grew and grew, so that neither the horse nor cow
got any sleep at all that night. And this was nothing new. The two
had developed quite a habit of debating endlessly and bitterly about
things they knew either little or nothing about.
As you might expect, since she got no sleep, the next day the cow
gave almost no milk. Unfortunately, that was one time too many. The
farmer hauled her over to the butcher for processing. She was a
little old and tough, but she made into good hamburger and sausage.
That same day, the horse was so tired and sleepy that he walked
right into a gopher hole while plowing, and broke his leg. And so
he was sent off to the glue factory, since he'd never be able to
plow again.
The farmer shook his head as he headed out to get another cow and
another horse. Two good animals that seemed to go bad so quickly. It
just made no sense.
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