In my neck of the woods we have a school-related program for small children called Safety Town. It's where they teach kids about being safe........You know, common sense-type shit that keeps them out of harms way, like not picking up dead squirrels........not getting in vans with fat guys you don't know, and looking both ways before crossing the street. Stuff that even animals can figure out.
Well, most animals anyway. Deer seem to fuck up that road-crossing thing all the time.
So one day, I'm cruising along with my 5 year old son in the car and we pass a deer lying on the side of the road----apperently struck by a car-----or possibly raped and murdered by a pedeerphile. Either way, I saw an opportunity to have some fun, so I say to Brandon,..."Look Brandon, that stupid deer is sleeping on the side of the road. If he doesn't find a better place to nap, he's gonna get hit by a car". My son then looked up at me with complete seriousness and said....."He did't go to Safety Town, did he dad".
Anyway, after I regained control of the car from laughing so hard, I wondered-----why didn't the guy who hit the deer get out and throw it in the trunk???? I mean, we have hunters around here who sit in a camoflaged tree stand for HOURS waiting for some unsuspecting deer to venture across the field so they can pick him off with 30.06 tricked out with a scope, range finder, and aubible que to let you know when you're "locked on".
That shit doesn't impress me---not at all. That's not hunting to me.
No,... if you want to impress me with your hunting skills, then show me a video of you chasing that big buck with a buck knife----for miles----- wearing nothing but a loin cloth and war paint. I wanna see you engaged in an epic battle that would make the Ali-Frasier fight look like tiny-tot thumb wrestling at a day care. I wanna see you with an antler stuck in your gut while you're thrusting your knife over and over into what will be your dinner that night. I wanna see deer fur on your salt-crusted, dry lips, gasping for air----with no game warden in sight to save your bitch ass.
But you're NOT impressing me when the only effort you put out is the squeeze of a trigger after you blew a deer-call into a bull horn (that's entrapment by the way), sprayed deer-pussy-scent from a fire hose over the entire forest, set out an entire heard of female decoys---all dressed out in bikinis, make-up and breast enhancement, and brought in a deer psychologist as a consultant------all from the comfort of a heated, carpeted deer stand with theater seating and plasma T.V.----just in case things are a little slow. What the fuck-----why not just call in air support from an F-15 and carpet-bomb them. That way, you can insure your ego will remain intact at the end of the day.
Hey----I'm all for hunting, and I loves me some deer jerky. But if you need all the shit offered at Bass Pro Shop to get the job done, then you're probably the same guy who shoots fish in a barrel and then tells all the guys at the bar how hard you fought to reel one in.