It's me, Cornman, I like corn and I am also a man. If you go into the cornfields at 2:00 a.m. you might just find me sitting there lying down straight in a yellow suit of corn pretending I'm a big old corn cob, but probably not, you will most likely not find me there. Shouting Cornman forty two times, especially in the height of the corn season may summon me, and behold the great Cornman commeth on his uniCORN, with an actual corncob protruding from it's forehead, he rides forth valiantly with golden locks flowing in the corn scented wind (you know because it's in the middle of a cornfield). I, the great Cornholio will pluck the corn cob from my uniCORN and bless you for your unwavering faith of the Cornman, I then will depart, flying into the clouds across a golden beam of light that radiates the beautiful uniCORN as the kernels pop behind us, leaving a trail of popcorn. Our ascension into the sky unveils the sun revealed to be a corn dawning on a new day smiling down and winking at you as a parting gift of the Cornman.