The world according to Riff.

LOWVILLE, N.Y. – "Listen," John Yancey says, leaning against his truck in a field outside his home.

The rhythmic whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of wind turbines echoes through the air. Sleek and white, their long propeller blades rotate in formation, like some otherworldly dance of spindly-armed aliens swaying across the land.

Yancey stares at them, his face contorted in anger and pain.

He knows the futuristic towers are pumping clean electricity into the grid, knows they have been largely embraced by his community.

But Yancey hates them.

He hates the sight and he hates the sound. He says they disrupt his sleep, invade his house, his consciousness. He can't stand the gigantic flickering shadows the blades cast at certain points in the day.(I hate firewood, I hate oxygen, I hate the smurfs...lol)

But what this brawny 48-year-old farmer's son hates most about the windmills is that his father, who owns much of the property, signed a deal with the wind company to allow seven turbines on Yancey land.(Must of not got a cut?.....as much as people are screaming "go green".....it sounds like a case of go green .....somewhere else.....)

"I was sold out by my own father," he sputters.(I'll phone Al Gore, and have him send him some carbon credits....and by the way fella, are you 48 and still living at home?....buy your own land, and keep the windmills off of it..........that way you can ensure you don't sell out "your" kids.....lol)