Georgia's harsh anti-illegal immigration law was signed into law in May by Gov. Nathan Deal. Can you smell the patriotism in the air? It smells like rotting vegetables:

A rash of inexplicable watermelon explosions has stricken melon farmers in eastern China. Experts are baffled! Is this the start of the coming apocalypse?

Al Gore has admitted that his early, critical support for corn-based ethanol subsidies — which he now admits is "not a good policy" — was designed to curry favor with Iowa farmers before his presidential run. Shameful! Enjoy liars' jail.

Verlyn Klinkenborg writes for the New York Times editorial page and is absolutely unbearable. He writes twee musings about his farm. In the world's greatest newspaper. Two years ago, I asked him to stop. Instead, he's gotten worse than ever.

Well, this isn't something you see every day. Watch as a man runs in front of a hay baler, strips down completely, enters the back of it and emerges a literal bale of hay. Where do these people come from?

French farmers transformed part of the Champs Elysees—the iconic Paris street on which the Arc de Triomphe sits—into farmland in an attempt to promote the struggling farm industry. Click through for more photos of French people having fun.

The economy of Britain—fancy Britain!—is doing so poorly that the government might have to ask for help from the International Monetary Fund. Shit. The smart countries have already regressed to agrarianism.

Though he does not know it, Verlyn Klinkenborg is my nemesis. He's a member of the New York Times editorial board. Like all of the board's members, he has the privilege of using the most valuable op-ed space in American newspapers as a bulletin board for his personal musings. Verlyn takes advantage of this power to write regular items about "The Rural Life," all of which I can summarize as follows: "As I strolled through the country or gazed out my window, I saw nature, which I ruminated upon. Tra la, tra la, tra la." If I have to open up the Sunday paper one more time and see a chunk of editorial page real estate occupied by an "Editorial Notebook" essay inspired solely by window-gazing, I simply don't know what I will do. So Verlyn: I'd like to offer you a gentleman's agreement.