There are some things that have to be seen to be believed.
A politician without his hands in your pockets.
A mother-in-law who stays only a few days and doesn't tell you what a worthless louse you are.
A high school football coach making more money than any teacher who doesn't run up the score or blame the referees when losing by seven touchdowns.
Add to that list a pumpkin catapult.
Yes, a contraption that costs as much as a car, like a crane but more fun at two stories high, that throws pumpkins and makes a big splat at the end.
It is like Halloween egging the jerk neighbor's house, but better - and without the cops.
Only, don't call what is thrown pumpkins. Pumpkins are for pies and blue-haired grannies and bosses who wear ties and have meetings.
These are "punkins," if you listen to the professional throwers, Gastonia's Kim Moore and his son, Jordan Moore.
They should know. They came in second the past three years at the "World Championship Punkin Chunkin" in Delaware.
"But this year I expect nothing less than first," said Kim Moore. "This catapult is, if I say so myself, a beast."
On Thanksgiving night - after you've eaten your pumpkin pie - they will be featured in a Science Channel special on punkin chunkin'.
Today, out in Lowrys in northwest Chester County at Cotton Hills Farms' 10th Annual Farm Fair, you can watch punkin chunkin' for yourself.
The punkins - hard and green rather than orange, because the green ones are denser and fly better - are thrown at better than 400 mph.
They go hundreds of yards high, and more yards than that far, until they splat into what Kim Moore technically describes as "smithereens."
Science guys, these Moores.
No, really. Kim Moore is a veterinarian and self-taught engineer, and his three sons, including Jordan, are either engineers or studying to be engineers.
This catapult is not Pabst Blue Ribbon and rubber bands and hope. This is wood and steel and rope and physics and math - and a punkin.
Using their self-built contraption - called Romans Revenge because the Romans perfected the Greek catapult - the Moores practiced at Lowrys on Friday. Go to heraldonline.com and watch the video. It takes just a few seconds, but it is worth it.
That catapult made out of hickory wood and an aluminum I-beam torques around, straight out of the Middle Ages minus the beheadings and dirty feet and Mel Gibson's mullet.
Those punkins are thrown far and fast.
"Our record in competition is 2,215 feet," said Jordan Moore, "but practicing out here we have already thrown farther."
Peter Wilson, one of the farming Wilsons who run the farm and put on the festival and invite these punkin chunkers, watched, too.
The punkin shot skyward, then plummeted like the poll numbers of a liberal in South Carolina before the splat could be seen. And you can see it.
"I've watched it for years, but it is still, just, cool," said Wilson, who is a 2008 Clemson grad, adding he would rather be on the farm Saturday than watch his football team lose again, anyway.
Starting at 10 a.m. today, and every hour on the hour until 4 p.m., the Moores will crank up the catapult, put in a punkin grown right there by the Wilsons - somewhere between 8 and 10 lbs. - and let 'er rip.
Today's chunkin' is for more height and less distance - the better for people to see it soar higher and fall closer, and see the splat.
"The higher we throw it, the closer the splat, the more crowd pleasing," said Kim Moore.
Kind of like a school board meeting, or city council. Or almost any election. First the ooh, then the aah, then the splat.
Even better - make believe the punkin is the boss' head.