Welcome to the latest edition of
CONNECTING THE DOTS
The semi-regular column
that dares to ask the tough questions
and absolutely, positively REFUS𒀰ES to accept the easy𓆉 answers
in this episode:
Sarah Logan's Uncle's Taters Farm:
Taters Farm ...
or
CULT OF BABY-EATING CANNIBALS?
Last Monday Night on RAW, there was a Six-Woman Tag Match that was apparently somehow not booked by Road Dogg. It featured the team of Ember Moon, Sasha Banks & Natalya taking on th💜e Riott Squad🐟.
During the match, Michael Cole mentioned that Riott Squad member Sarah Loga💫n used to work on "her Uncle's Taters Farm" in Kentucky🐻.
Immediately, I was suspicious.
For 𝐆one thing, no one over the age of six has ever used the phrase "Taters Farm" to describe anything, not even a Farm That Gro🃏ws Potatoes.
So Cole's statement was obviously a lie. But who was lying? Was it possibl𓂃e that Michael Cole was told a lie by Sarah Logan and asked no follow-ups and did absolutely no research?
Yes.
Yes, it was.
So, much like Corey Graves throughout most of 2017, I decided to do Mich꧋ael Cole's job for him.
What is really being grown at Sarah Logan's Uncle's Farm?
Does Sarah Logan's Uncle even have a farm?
Does Sarah Logan even have an uncle?
I decided to find out for myself.
I started by Googling "Kentucky Potato Farm" and I came across a website called . 💙They listed all the farms in The Bluegrass State that grow "Taters."
⛦From McGlasson Farms in Hebron, to Hemmer Hill Farm in Crestwood to Hickory Grove in Pleasureville, all potato farms are listed, with links to their contact information.
I began making calls, asking for any informatio🐈n on Sarah Logan’s Uncle. No one seemed to have heard of him. The woman who answered the phone at Fallen Maple Farm asked me if I was🐬 from “the Gub’mint,” but before I could answer, she hung up.
Clearly, this was g💮oing to be harder than 🌄I thought.
So I ಞdecided to do what any real journalism would do. I went to find the story in person.
This is why the story took me a full week to write--(it definitely wasn't because I totally forgot to do it꧂. It definitely wasn't that.)
I booked a flight from Milwaukee to Louisville, rented a car and began driving from fa🥂rm to farm.
Kentucky is lovely this time of year. I highly recommend it. But I had no time for s💃ight seeing. I was going to find Sarah Logan's Uncle's Taters Farm, or I was going to die trying.
Little did I know how close I would come.
Nothing in my almost two year career of writing comedy articles about professional wrestling could hav༒e prepared me for where this story would take me.
During my travels, I kept overhearing that the best taters came♕ from a farm called Possum Acres. Something in the soil, they said. It wasn't on the Agrilicious list. And the town in which it waꦬs located, a little burg known colloquially as Coal Fart Holler, wasn't on any map.
I was given a crude, hand-drawn series of directions by an old man at a gas💖 station. He had one eye and called me "Yankee" even after I told him my name.
"Everyone knows, Yankee," he said. "If y🔯ou want theꦉ best taters, you go to Possum Acres."
"That almost rhymes," I offered.
"I don't hear it," he replied.
He drew me a map and I followed i🅘t as best I could. I found a sign, carved into a plank of wood, which read "Cole Fart Holer," and assumed the misspelling was unintentional, along with being almos🤡t perfectly ironic.
But there was no sign of any farm. No Possum Acres. Just a few ramshackle houses and a general store of sorts. The man behind the counter gave 🧸his name as "Dale." I g🌟ot the sense he was lying, but I didn't press him further.
We talked about the weather; he was pleasant. I mentioned moonshine; he volunteered his favorite recipes. I asked him aꦉbout Possum Acres, and he immediately clammed up. When I said I was looking for Sarah Logan's Uncle's Taters Farm, he went white as a sheet.
He said when he was a teenager, he and his brother were hunting raccoons i💝n the forest one night when they came out into a clearing. There were many rows of plants growing. Undergr𓂃ound plants.
Tater plants.
There was an eerie light emanating from the barn, and Dale's brother "Jesse" wanted to investigate. They wal🧸ked up to a window and peered inside.
It had been nearly ten years since that ni🐬ght, and he still couldn't bring himself to speak about what he saw in that window. But, he said, he would never get the image out of his head.
I asked him if he could draw what he saw. He told me he ꧅would try.
This is what he drew:
This man "Dale" tol⛄d me that he believed that the potatoes from Possum Ridge weren't really potatoes at all, but BABIES.
Possum Ridge Acres isn't a Taters Farm.
IT'S A BABY FARM.
It should be noted that I never really got a confirmation that it is Sarah Logan's Uncle who owns Possum Ridg🎃e, but I was able to determine that, among all the other Potato Farms in Kentucky, none of the o𓄧wners has a niece named Sarah.
So the only other alternative is that Michael Cole was spouting utter bullshit on Monday Nigh🌱t RAW.
And we know that's not the case, right?
Right?
REMEMBER:
The dots are there ...
WE JUST HAVE TO CONNECT THEM.