They mean the end.
They mean a future wherein Starbucks, Wal-Mart and Windows compose a wholly unholy trinity.
They mean more for Monsanto.
I should have grown up with dirt in my hair and toenails. I should have learned to irrigate, and to milk my own free-range cows.
I can't drive a tractor or even a truck.
I don't even know these creatures anymore.

Last time I was in Idaho, I priced cowboy boots at the mall. $400.