"Our cash flow is not flowing," I informed my bookkeeper, who just so happens to also be my wife. "I have decided to use my brilliant business mind to raise some cash. Take a letter, would you?"

"Who should I address it to?" my secretary/wife asked.

"To anybody with an ecologically sound mind and way too much money."

"Dear Sucker," wrote my secretary, who also doubles as my bookkeeper. I continued dictating: "I recently discovered a system of sustainable agriculture that is ecologically safe and self-supporting. I just need a little venture capital to get started and I knew you would want to get in on the ground floor."

"How do I spell perpetual?" interrupted my secretary.

"Look it up in the dictionary," I replied.

"How do I look it up if I don't know how to spell it?"

"It's in alphabetical order, you know? Can we please continue?" Without further interruption I continued dictating: "For the first phase of my sustainable agricultural endeavor, we will begin with worms. They are generally free for the digging."

"Yeah," interrupted my secretary, "and they are just like investors. All you have to do is keep them in the dark and feed them some manure once in a while."

"Is that what I pay you for?" I asked my secretary. “Your smart aleck remarks?"

"You don't pay me," my bookkeeping wife reminded me.

Despite the interference, I continued dictating my letter: "The worms will be used to catch the fish in the stock ponds at my ranch. My head fisherman, who also happens to be my bookkeeper/secretary, will then gut the fish and sell the fish to restaurants, and feed the fish guts to our pigs. The water from the fish pond will be used to grow pasture for the pigs."

"Who, may I ask," interrupted my editor, who doubles as my fish-cleaner, "is going to eat pigs raised on fish guts?"

"Would you quit interrupting? We aren't finished yet. And can't you write a little faster? Don't you know shorthand?"

"Yes I do," claimed my stenographer, who is also my editor, "but it takes me a little longer."

I continued my dictation: "During their grazing the pigs will naturally fertilize the pasture and provide partially digested food for the chickens."

"Who in their right mind is going to eat chickens that have been eating pig poop?" asked my pig farmer.

"You grammar, please." I scolded my secretary.

"You leave my grandma out of this," my wife said. "I repeat, who is going to eat chickens raised on pig poop?"

"I have already figured that out," I replied. "Take another letter, will you?"

"Who should I address this one to?" asked my still-cynical secretary.

"To all the greenie environmentalists and eco-freaks with gobs of money."

"Dear Sucker," typed my typist. "I recently discovered a system of sustainable agriculture and I was sure that you would want to get in on the ground floor. Please send check or money order today for your hormone-free, 100 percent natural range-raised chickens."

"Tell me," I said to my editor/secretary/worm-digger/bookkeeper/pig-pooper-picker-upper/fish-cleaning/wife, "am I a genius or what?"

The views and opinions expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of Farm World. Readers may log on to www.LeePittsbooks.com to order any of Lee Pitts’ books. Those with questions or comments for Lee may write to him in care of this publication.