Remember Me?

Perhaps not.

Baked Potato

Yoda Potato

Potato Scheme

Potato Scheme with the Help of Kuler

Potato Primetime

Radioactive Potato

In-n-out - The Ultimate Nightmare for Potatoes

A Potato Mystery

My dear, sweet (but not literally) potatoes, welcome.  And may you be tilled daily.

As you are likely aware, our race stretches back thousands upon thousands of crop-cycles.  And while I am a Cultivator of the Culture, there are some aspects of ancient spudlife that even I do not fully fathom.  Recently, I stumbled across a beautiful harvest of old proverbs.  Some are well-known to us, but some are impossibly cryptic.  This one in particular caught my eyes:

Three pebbles in night, yet four in the morning.  Beware what comes next, oh little spudling.

Any ideas, my sprouts?  (Farmers, you can help too.)

-Cathartic Potato

The Famous Cow & Potato Joke

  

The Haynes Tatoes

The Haynes Tatoes

 

Cosmic Potato

Behold the Cosmic Potato
- Mystic.

Ode: Potato, Patata, Batata

Potato, patata, batata-
would tubers by any other names be
as sweet, salty or satisfying?

For the Russet, dependable and versatile
for the Jewel yam, a sweet potato with a name like no other
for the Japanese sweet potato, complexly colored and of deep flavor
for the Hannah sweet potato, saccharine and fair

for the Rose Finn Apple potato, earthy and rich in her depth
for the Russian Banana potato, an intriguing and odd fellow
for the Red Thumb potato, adored by chefs
for the French Fingerling potato, perfectly pink

for the LaRette potato, born in the Swiss Alps
for the Austrian Crescent potato, a descendent of greatness
for the Red Gold potato, hued as delicately as rose gold
for the Purple Majesty potato, royal and distinct

for the Norland Red potato, a friend to butter and herbs
for the Yukon Gold potato, as tough as the miners
for the Kennebec potato, who holds his own and, finally,
for the All Blue potato, food of the Smurfs.

- Lyrical

The Book of Taters I

My dear, dear Potatoes.  And Farmers too.  I am now working on a retelling of an old potato folk tale, but to my deep regret it is not yet complete.  Until that time, please appreciate one of our earliest known pieces of sacred Potato art.

Loves and fertilizers,

-Cathartic Potato

They Do Plot

We are Potato

Haiku 1: Beginnings

growing in the earth
tubers finding life where dark
ness covers their eyes

Lyrical

The Beginning

We come.

Welcome, Farmers.  Welcome to the site where you may converse with and ask questions of those who you have spent your life trotting upon.  Deep-frying.  Launching as deadly projectiles of terror and starch.

But strangely, many of you know little about our kind.  So let this blog be the testing ground for a new relationship between Spudkind and Farmers.  In the hopeful spirit of such a union, here is an as-of-yet unpublished interview to give invaluable insight into the life of a common tuber.

Q:  Where were you sprouted?

A: I am a potato of humble origin.  I was not sprouted into wealth and hothouses, nor even the private gardens that breed such elitism among our kinds.  My seedsires, my greatseedsires, and myself are all spudlings of the Everyfield.  

Q:  What kind of potato are you?

A: My family's one claim to distinction is that we are "Golden Wonders".  Unfortunately, our high desirableness as well as weak constitutions have resulted in a gradual lessening of our harvest unit.  We all pray that the Day of Scalloping will come to give us Soil Eternal.

Q:  How do you spend your typical day?

A: Since my plucking, I have labored as a common potato of the Crop.  I roll, I sprout, and I dream.  Others mold, but not me.  I've found that an active mind is the best defense.   Against everything.  Also: regular sessions in a good refrigerator.

Q:  What's on your perfect sundae?

A:  Ketchup.  Others in my harvest unit might find it perverse, but I consider myself a bit edgy.    

Q:  What's your greatest aspiration?

A:  To prove my worth to the Crop and to be welcomed at my boilingday into the Land of No Peeling.

Q:  What do you wish every Farmer knew about your race?

A:  That we are not that different from you.  Also, that if you ate only potatoes plus a little bit of butter or milk, you would live a healthy existence.  

Q:  Really?

A:  Yes.

Now you have been introduced to the proud and happy race of Spudkind.  Consider yourselves blessed.  And be blessed, you forerunners of this new relationship between our Crops.

Sprout

Poink!

Don't Wake Me

Hrrrrrrmmmmmmm...

Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

Five more minutes...

This soil is so comfortable.

Don't make me get up.

I'll.

I'll do something.  Monday.

I promise.