Butter

I believe in America.

I believe we're the best.

I believe we're number one.

And I don't want to apologize for that.

My husband and I are survivors.

We fought tooth and nail to

get to where we are today.

How? The old-fashioned way:

hard work and

a can-do attitude.

And here in the great state

of Iowa no less,

where all great battles begin.

My name is Laura Dean Pickler

and this is the cutthroat story

of greed, blackmail,

sex and butter.

Bob? Bob Pickler?

Bob Pickler, where are ya?

Ah, there you are.

Stand up for us, please.

That's us.

The Picklers. Bob and Laura.

We were the royal family

of butter carving.

Oh, sure, laugh.

But did you know more people

saw the butter sculptures of

the Iowa State Fair last year

than went to the Super Bowl?

No, of course you didn't.

How could you, with the

liberal media as biased as it is?

Would you dim

the lights, please?

Sit down and watch this.

Oh, I come to the Iowa State Fair every

year and that's mainly because of Bob.

Born into poverty

in Battle Creek, Iowa in 1968,

Bob Pickler found solace

in his best friend,

a young calf named Suki.

But tragedy arrived when Bob

was just eight years old.

Suki was struck dead

by lightning.

Distraught, Bob carved

a likeness of his beloved Suki

with the only thing the Picklers had

in the icebox... a block of butter.

Even though his mother destroyed

young Bob's first sculpture,

Bob was bit by the

butter-carving bug.

He first entered the

Mastery in Butter competition

15 years ago,

his lovely wife Laura

encouraging him

every step of the way.

With a controversial,

yet staggeringly elegant piece

titled

"Newt Gingrich on Horse."

Hey, hon.

What do you think?

Look at Newt.

Oh, it's great.

How do you like my haircut?

I'd better like it.

It cost me 15 bucks.

I'm worth it.

Get over here. Aww!

Thus began his

unprecedented winning streak

that included the world-famous

"T-Rex Eating Girl."

- Well, back in '94...

- It was '95.

- Well, '94...

- It was '95.

OK. We'll call it '95.

'94, actually, but...

Bob comes out and reveals his piece.

"Schindler's List."

"Schindler's List!"

- Here we go.

- Sorry.

It just made me cry.

And we're not even Jewish.

But no one could imagine

the showstopper

the boy from Battle Creek

would pull out this year.

A life-size replica

of "The Last Supper"

that the Des Moines Register

called "better than the original."

I really think Bob and I

could parlay this fame

we have from butter

into politics.

I mean, don't be surprised if you

see us in the Governor's mansion,

or the White House.

This is just the beginning.

Bob Pickler,

ladies and gentlemen!

Fifteen wonderful years!

Butter was my world...

...until it all came

crashing down.

If you can believe it, the

first time I saw Mrs. Pickler

I actually wished she and

Mr. Pickler would take me in.

You know, of

course the awards are wonderful.

But what is most satisfying

to me, and to Bob,

is the attention we bring

to our charity, Camp Butter.

- Yes.

- Where we help children with special needs.

The foster people had just

put me with a bunch of families

and anyone had to

be better than them.

First was the Moores.

They were home-schoolers,

which always spells trouble.

And then God

cast down the angels

and they fell to earth,

which is where

dinosaur bones come from.

Next came Mrs. Carmichael.

She was on pills.

Just tell the doctor you've been

anxious lately and you need Klonopin.

OK. Klonopin.

You're gonna be such

a great daughter.

- I liked her.

- Stupid child-proof cap.

She was always so calm.

Here, you try.

Too calm to run from the police, I guess.

They're not mine!

So after that came the Gundersons.

They were old.

The red button is

for the ambulance.

Tell her about the red button.

So you can understand why I wasn't

on to Mrs. Pickler's bull sooner.

Plus, I was only

ten at the time.

Now that I'm 11,

I know the truth.

White people are weirdos.

Did they find my mom yet?

Come on, sweetheart.

It's late.

Your room's still empty.

Thank you.

"Pickin' Up The Pieces"

Excuse me.

Wow!

Laura Dean Pickler!

- Hi, Carol Ann Stevenson.

- Hey, Carol Ann.

Look at you,

you look just amazing.

It's brave of you to wear stirrup

pants with your body type.

Thank you. My pants keep

riding up

and I need to

pull them down with my feet.

They're hard to find,

Ill say that, but I found 'em.

Hey there.

Can I have a look at that?

Wow.

You're good.

Really good.

A real natural.

You're a quiet one, aren't ya?

That's OK.

So was John Wayne, so...

Can I borrow this?

Bob makes butter

carving look so easy.

I even think I could do it

sometimes.

Then I'm like, "Wake up,

Carol Ann! You're in a dream!"

That summer, they put me

with Miss Jill and Mr. Ethan.

They were the whitest people I'd ever met.

I wasn't expecting

to stay very long.

These people always

get cold feet.

This will be your bedroom.

It's pink.

Yeah. I told her

to go with green.

No, it's pretty.

- There's a TV?

- Oh, yeah.

It's not HD though, so, sorry.

And no watching past eight.

Is that what we said, eight?

- No TV past nine.

- Nine, right.

Eight, what is this, prison?

"Lights out!"

Um...

- Is there anything you need?

- No. Thank you.

What do you like to do for fun?

Do you have hobbies?

We can buy you some stuff,

like books or a globe.

I'm not really

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