A busload of politicians were driving down a country road when, all of a sudden, the bus ran off the road and crashed into a tree in an old farmer's field. The old farmer, after seeing what happened, went over to investigate. He then proceeded to dig a hole and bury the politicians.
A few days later, the local sheriff came out, saw the crashed bus and asked the old farmer where all the politicians had gone. The old farmer said he had buried them. The sheriff asked the old farmer, "Were they ALL dead?"
The old farmer replied, "Well, some of them said they weren't, but you know how them politicians lie."
An old farmer wanted a loan for $500. He approached his local banker. "What have you got for collateral?" queried the banker, going strictly by the book.
"Don't know what collateral means."
"Well that's something of value that would cover the cost of the loan. Have you got any vehicles?"
"Yes, I have a 1979 pickup."
The banker shook his head, "How about livestock?"
"Yes, I have a horse."
"How old is it?"
"I don't know; it has no teeth."
Finally the banker decided to make the $500 loan. Several weeks later the man was back in the bank. He pulled out a roll of bills, "Here's the money to pay loan," he said, handing the entire amount including interest.
"What are you going to do with the rest of that money?"
"Put it in my pocket."
"Why don't you deposit it in my bank?" he asked.
"I don't know what deposit means."
"Well, you put the money in our bank and we take care of it for you. When you want to use it you can withdraw it."
The man leaned across the desk, looking suspiciously at the banker, and asked, "What you got for collateral?"
TO MY WIFE: My overdraft at the bank. Maybe she can explain it.
TO MY BANKER: My soul. He has the mortgage on it anyway.
TO MY NEIGHBOR: My clown suit. He'll need it if he continues to farm as he has in the past.
TO THE ASCS: My grain bin. I was planning to let them take it next year anyway.
TO THE FARM ADVISER: 50 bushels of corn to see if he can hit the market. I never did.
TO THE JUNK MAN: All my machinery. He's had his eye on it for years.
TO MY UNDERTAKER: A special request. I want six implement and fertilizer dealers for my pallbearers. They're used to carrying me.
TO THE WEATHERMAN: Rain, sleet and snow for the funeral please. No sense having good weather now.
TO THE GRAVEDIGGER: Don't bother. The hole I'm in should be big enough.
TO THE MONUMENT MAKER: For the epitaph: "Here lies a farmer who has now properly assumed all of his obligations."