Crop–Not Crap–Circles in Chrislip!
Editor’s Note: Journal reporter Michael X. Wright recently reported on a crop circle that appeared in a farm field outside of town. When he submitted the article, he was, by his own admission, depressed and under the influence of alcohol. The story should not have run, but due to a technical error, it did.
Here is Wright’s updated article. The drunk story caused the Journal much embarrassment, and we’re reprinting it beneath this one just in case anyone missed it.
Crop Circles in Chrislip!
Crop circles. In all of nature, is there anything quite so mysterious and beautiful? Late at night, an unseen hand, belonging to alien or angel, reaches down from its world and traces its signature on our own.
Now, Chrislip knows that magic. It happened when farmer Arthur Medway reported that strange patterns had appeared overnight in his wheatfield.
Arthur and his wife are simple country people, and they have no explanation as to why their farm was chosen to host this mystery. In truth, they are less interested in theories than in making sure that others behold the wonder. “As soon as I saw it,” said Arthur, “I knew I had to share it with my fellow townsmen.”
Due to the flatness of the land, this reporter was unable to gain a high enough vantage point to photograph the circle in all its symmetrical splendor. But a photo would fail to do it justice anyway. Being in the presence of this quirk of nature is far more intoxicating than anything a camera could capture. As one stands there in the heart of the unexplainable, one can’t help but feel in touch not only with nature’s wonder, but with its author.
I left the Medway farm a better man than when I came.
Crap Circles in Chrislip!
So I go out to Art Medway’s farm, and Art’s sucking on a Schlitz at 8:30 in the morning. “You gonna put mah pitcher on the computer?” he asks, when I say I’m from the Chrislip Journal. When I tell him no, just the crop circle, he spits on the ground and goes back in the house.
He did come back and show me the circle. Yup, there it is. Big whoop. I took the picture. That’s it up there. Seeing it from that angle is about as exciting as watching the June Taylor Dancers from ground-level. I couldn’t get up higher. Is that alright with you?
Okay, so there really is something there. A circle. Kind of. But we’ve all seen the Discovery Channel. There’s these hoaxer guys with ropes and boards who go out in the fields and make their little designs. I’m not saying Art Medway did it. Hell. The guy weighs 300 lbs. Just walking out to the field had him wheezing like a concertina.
Maybe it was kids. More likely it was Art’s new farmhand who made the marks by bouncing Art’s wife around the field on her back. We’ve all heard the talk.
One more thing. How come I always get the crap stories? How come I never get the hot ones, like the sexy motel sisters, or the local sex addicts? No. Got a crap story? Give it to Mikey. He’ll write anything.
I got a bad taste in my mouth. I’m off to gargle with some more Stoly.