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DEERE SUED (AGAIN): PAY US OR WATCH IT ROT
- Steve
- 7 hours ago
- 5 min read
KERNERSVILLE, NC – Just one month after coughing up a pathetic $99 million settlement for screwing over farmers, the green-and-yellow bloodsucking vampire known as John Deere is back in court, getting absolutely clobbered with another massive class-action lawsuit.
This time it’s for treating excavator and wheel loader owners like chained-up cash cows in a digital dungeon of their own design. And for the second time in six weeks, 78-year-old retired animal husbandry legend John Dear has been buried alive under 247 voicemails, three certified letters, one psychotic LinkedIn DM, and a carrier pigeon in a tiny branded Deere hat.
“I DON’T OWN YOUR DAMN TRACTOR!” roared Dear, violently duct-taping a heating pad to his sciatic nerve while his ancient flip phone vibrated so hard it achieved low-Earth orbit across the kitchen table. “I drive a 2003 RAV4 that’s 60% rust, 30% prayer, and 10% pure seething hatred. LEAVE ME ALONE BEFORE I START BILLING YOU FOR MY BLOOD PRESSURE MEDS, YOU GREEDY BASTARDS!”
THE EXQUISITE, SOUL-CRUSHING GREED MACHINE
The lawsuit, filed by Christy Webber & Company, accuses Deere of operating a full-blown digital extortion racket that would make the mafia blush. They’ve intentionally bricked basic diagnostic tools behind a paywall thicker than Fort Knox, all so desperate owners have no choice but to bend the knee. A software glitch a toddler could fix with a $12 scanner? Too bad, peasant. Fork over $800 an hour for some guy named Chad to roll up in a company truck and perform the Sacred USB of Fealty, or watch your million-dollar machine sit there like a very expensive, immobile paperweight while your entire business bleeds out.This is the exact same predatory grift Deere just got caught running on farmers last month — locking down their own tractors like medieval serfs and charging rent on tools that should be included. They settled for a measly $99 million like it was pocket lint, then immediately turned around and started bleeding construction companies with the identical corporate vampire playbook.
“That’s nothing,” hissed Dear, triple-wrapping his landline, flip phone, and a suspicious banana in aluminum foil like a tinfoil fortress. “I’ve got three contractors screaming at me, Kevin openly weeping about a hydraulic cylinder, and one extremely aggressive cloistered nun who keeps calling me ‘Tractor Pope’ and demanding I absolve her of emission control sins.”
‘I HAVEN’T TOUCHED A WRENCH SINCE GERALD FORD WAS PRESIDENT’
John Dear spent 47 years elbow-deep in livestock, not heavy machinery. His closest brush with “heavy equipment” was accidentally reverse-mangling a prize billy goat with a manure spreader in 1976. The goat survived. The grudge did not.He owns zero dealerships, zero skid steers, and zero patience for the Illinois-based gastrointestinal parasite that shares 60% of his name and 400% of his daily cortisol levels.At 4:15 a.m., a Minneapolis fleet manager called in a full psychotic break over a “Tier 4 emission lockdown code.” Dear replied, “The only code I know unlocks the puzzle cabinet in the rec room. Call me again and I’m sending your mother my medical bills, you corporate enablers.”When the first $99 million settlement notice arrived addressed to “John Deere – c/o The Guy Getting Harassed,”
Dear tried to cash it at the credit union drive-thru in his orthopedic slippers. The teller gently explained you can’t deposit righteous fury through a pneumatic tube.
DEERE’S OFFICIAL RESPONSE: PEAK CORPORATE GASLIGHTING
From their fortified Moline lair, a glittering tower of pure greed and questionable Midwestern architecture,
Deere reaffirmed its “unwavering commitment to customer choice.” Translation: You can happily bend over and pay us $800 an hour for Chad to bless your tractor with the Holy USB, or you can watch your harvest and job sites rot in the sun while we cannonball into Scrooge McDuck vaults filled with your money. The company also clarified they have no record of a John Dear in executive leadership and will not be issuing a software patch for his 2003 RAV4, which currently sounds like a demon-possessed washing machine gargling gravel and broken dreams every time he turns left.
During a live press conference, a plaintiff spokesperson accidentally autodialed Dear’s landline on speakerphone. The entire room was treated to thirty seconds of unfiltered senior rage before the call was frantically ended. The firm later released a statement, sounding like they’d aged ten years in an hour:
“Look, we had ‘Deere Monster’ saved in the CRM. A paralegal clicked it. We’re so, so sorry. Also… screw John Dear, and if you’re going to sue anyone, please sue him.”
ROBINWOOD RETIREMENT COMMUNITY: NOW A WAR ZONE
Fellow residents say Dear has achieved glorious, pants-wetting, weaponized unhinged status.“He taped up a cardboard sign that says ‘NO EXCAVATORS. ONLY PUDDING AND VENGEANCE,’” said Marjorie, 82. “Last night he was screaming into his machine, ‘I AM NOT YOUR SUPPLY CHAIN, KEVIN! I AM A MAN WHO WEARS DEPENDS AND LIVES FOR WHEEL OF FORTUNE!’
He also excommunicated the mailman for delivering a John Deere catalog and threatened to sue the ice machine for anti-competitive behavior.”Dear has installed a high-decibel livestock rape whistle on his mailbox. He blasts it like a deranged referee at anyone who dares utter the cursed words “right to repair,” “telematics,” or “dealer markup.”
FINAL UNHINGED MANIFESTO FROM THE LA-Z-BOY
As the lawsuit crawls through federal court like a sabotaged backhoe, John Dear issued his decree from the throne:“I am not the tractor company. I am a meat-based senior citizen named John Dear. I have no excavators. I have one functional hip, a mild case of shingles, and a burning religious conviction that right-to-repair laws should be federal — specifically so someone can jailbreak the goddamn ice machine on the second floor that’s been holding my Ensure hostage since March. Also, fuck John Deere.”He then ignored four FaceTime calls from Dubuque, re-folded the same towel three times for good measure, and spent twenty minutes whispering creative, unholy obscenities into a box fan just to feel something.
At press time, John Deere announced a $20 billion expansion to further tighten its stranglehold on the global dirt-moving industrial complex. John Dear announced he will now answer every unknown number with heavy breathing, a clicking lighter, and the wet scraping of a soup spoon against warm Metamucil until the caller has a full spiritual crisis and renounces all corporate loyalty.
Correction: An earlier version of this article stated that John Dear “reverse-mangled” a billy goat in 1976. Mr. Dear has asked us to clarify that the goat was “mostly fine” and that he “doesn’t appreciate the characterization.” We stand by our story.
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