A plane full of congressmen on a political fact-finding tour crashed in the middle of rural America.  Panic stricken, the FBI mobilized and descended on the farm in force. 

When they got there, all they found was a burned hulk, smoldering in a tree line that bordered a farm.  The agents descended upon the smoking hulk but could find no remains of the crew or passengers.  To their amazement, a lone farmer was plowing a field not too far away as if nothing at all had happened.  They hurried over to surround the man's tractor.

"Sir," the senior FBI agent asked, panting and out of breath.  "Did you see this terrible accident happen?"

"Yep.  Sure did." The farmer muttered unconcernedly.

"Did you realize that plane was full of congressmen?"

"Yep."

"Weren't there any survivors?" the agent gasped.

"Nope.  They's all kilt straight out." The farmer sighed, cutting off his tractor motor.  "I done buried them all myself.  Took most of the morning too."

"All of the Senators were dead?" The agent gulped in disbelief.

"Well," the farmer sighed, obviously wanting to get back to his work. 

"A few of 'em kept a-saying they wasn't ...  but you know what liars all them career politicians is."