Monday, November 21, 2005

I am a Blaze Orange Cowboy

It’s that time of year again. Deer Fighting Season. Every Saturday before Thanksgiving, the conspiring white-tail deer of Wisconsin band together to wreck havoc on the innocent constituents of Wisconsin. It’s up to us, the hunters, to keep them in check. Deer may seem like peaceful creatures but deep down they’re a bunch of war-mongers; ready to attack when we least expect it. They’re kind of like Canadians. I don’t trust either of them.

A lot of people think that deer hunting is a barbaric sport. These people don’t realize that if deer had access to firearms and had opposable thumbs, they would kill you and your entire family. You just can’t show mercy to these violent creatures.

Being the compassionate man that I am though, I like to give the deer a sporting chance. That is why I have stopped using conventional weaponry like rifles, bows, and bo staffs to take down the enemy. Instead, I like to come up with new and creative ways to hunt the elusive white tail.

This year, I used a Fighting Crane style Jujitsu to take down and humiliate an 8 point buck. The year before, I used a Grecko Roman maneuver to wrestle and grapple a 185 lb doe into submission. In 1998, I actually negotiated the surrender of a herd of deer, using subtle psychological mind games and eventually convincing them they’d be happier as a delicious venison tenderloin sandwich as opposed to roaming free in the wilderness. That last victory is my personal favorite.

I have a hair on my chest for every deer I’ve ever conquered. My friends have started calling me Austin Powers for the glaring similarities. I actually have to hunt shirtless now because my man fur gets too hot for me, even in the sub-arctic temperatures of the great Northwoods. Just call me Benny of the Jungle, swinging from tree to tree, tackling deer and other wild game where I see fit.

In reality, my freezing ass was parked in the woods all weekend and I didn’t see a goddamn thing. Which is fine. People just don’t understand that hunting is much more than just shooting a deer. It’s also more than playing poker, drinking lots of beer, and bonding with family, which is another common and valid argument in favor of the sport. It’s the little things that make deer hunting great, like the funny way the mind begins to wander after being in absolute solitude for hours on end, the wild turkey and homemade bread that my uncle cooks every year, or just inventing colorful new ways to describe a bowel movement. Deer camp is “roughing it” at its finest and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even though I didn’t bag my trophy buck this year, I’m STILL pretty much the most manly guy that I know of.

On a completely unrelated topic, I saw the midnight screening of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last Friday and let me the first to tell you, its awesomeness will go unrivaled for any movie coming out this year. I’d tell you more but I’ve got some serious chest scratching to attend to…

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