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Two farmers at the feed store were discussing the local election for tax

collector.



One of the candidates was named Harkins, who was also the operator of the

drawbridge over the local river.



"You gonna vote for Harkins?" the first farmer asked.



"No, I don't think so," the other replied.



"Why not?" the first farmer asked.



"Well, you remember that prize bull I used to have? One day I looked in the

barn and there's that bull lying down actin' strange. So I asked the vet

and he gave me some medicine, and he said it had to be put in the bull's

rectum.



"I took the medicine home but I couldn't find a funnel. So I seen this old

army bugle hangin' on a nail in the barn and I used that.



"Only problem was that before I could get that bugle out, my bull passed

some gas and made a loud toot on that bugle.



"Well sir, that scairt my bull somethin' awful and he busted out of the

stall, made another toot, then busted through the fence and went runnin'

down the road.



"He went down the road, runnin' and tootin' towards the bridge that Harkins

runs. That fool old man opened the bridge, and my bull ran across it, fell

in the river and drowned.



"Now," the farmer said, "Do you think I could vote for a man that's run

that bridge for years but don't know the difference between a God damned

boat whistle and a bull blowin' a bugle out his ass?