Everyone would win, dammit!

Posted: November 12, 2012 in Humor, Self-Deprecation
Tags: , ,

Before I even say another word, I am a proud supporter of PETA:  People Eating Tasty Animals.  Until one of you pretentious assjacks figures out a way to end intolerance, hunger, crime, injustice, hate…  shut your noise-tube about animals.  They taste good, and it’s my right as a member of the top of the damn food chain to taste those below me.  There’s a sick bestiality joke mixed in here somewhere, but I’ll let you have it.  If you’re one of those types who practices food discrimination, and gets butthurt when an omnivore like me speaks up, yeah— you might wanna just Alt-F4 right now… and delete system32 while you’re at it (it’ll prevent you from ever coming back here again, we’ll both be happier).

Now, I love venison.  In my part of the good ol’ US-of-A, deer are freaking everywhere.  In some of the more rural areas, some kids even get the first day of deer season off (crazy, right?!).  You also need a license to hunt, and must do it in season, or else you’ll have the wrath of some game warden rain down upon you.  Mind you, this is akin to mall-cop wrath, because they wanted to be real law enforcement officials– and just didn’t make the cut.  However, these guys can get you in an unholy shitload of trouble– unlike their retail-protection brethren.  In other words, be wary of the short fuse (their bark really has bite), but enough of this digression.

Back to deer– we all know these horned lemmings have some kind of species-wide death pact when it comes to motored vehicles.  Right?  Right.

Someone give Bambi some Goddamn anti-depressants!

My car can’t afford this shit.

These delicious insurance liabilities have also lost most of their fear of people– that is, around cities.  In northwest PA, and southwestern NY, it is becoming increasingly common to see deer chewing on shrubs in suburbs.  This goes double if your municipality is near a lake, or has plenty of trees (or like my area, where there are sporadic mutli-acre splotches of straight-up woodland mixed in with residences).  They’re going Colonial America on our asses and we’re busy protecting these tasty bastards!  It’s like they know they’re safe…

Let’s do the math on this: to keep us from hunting these furry foodstuffs into extinction (as humans are prone to do), we’ve put limitations on hunting.  We’ve put limitations on how you can hunt them (although I must say, a claymore mine would totally ruin the meat), when you can hunt them, and how many you can bag.  I mean yeah, it’s kind of like leaving extras for the less competent, but no matter what– it’s all in the name of conservation, right?  Well now they’re invading, in record numbers, and trying to commit suicide in town.  Apparently they’re no longer observing those “deer die here” signs on the goddamn highway– and taking the carnage to the city.

Madness!  Madness, I tell you!  Madness!!

The solution?  Caveman style, bitches.

Wait for it… Wait for it…

Stop.  You honestly thought I was going to advocate letting every camouflaged crackpot with a gun or a bow have open season within city limits, didn’t you?  You think Dick Cheney out hunting in the middle of BFE was a hazard?  Yeah, Darth Cheney’d be the least of your worries– the suburbs would would have more random bullet holes than the friggin’ projects. Nope, my idea is even better— and also where that other PETA might get a wee bit pissed.

I’m saying that there should be no season restrictions– as long as you’re going caveman style.  No hunting implements that can shoot any sort of projectile.  Which means, if you’re John Rambo enough and can bag a deer with a Bowie– not only have you earned your slot on top of the food chain, no hiker on a power trip can arrest you!  That’s right, your prey will be on the same playing field as you– which means you stand equal chance of man-killing some dinner, or getting your ass whooped by an animal that is easily faster and stronger than you are.   Think of the YouTube opportunities here.

Yes, I’m a touch crazy– but don’t judge me.  Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to go Captain Caveman all over Bambi’s smug ass– while he’s defiantly posing in the middle of the road, daring your fender to blast the rack off his skull.  Don’t try and convince me that if these suicidal stew ingredients turned your garden/bushes into a buffet line, you wouldn’t wanna put ’em on the menu with the vegetables– because I do.  There are deer just infesting this area, like it’s one giant home-free (because it is).  You realize the danger of letting another life form learn, even if it’s Pavlovian style, where they are untouchable?!  Madness, I tell you!  Madness!!!

Not to mention, you know how hunters just looooooooooooooooooooove to pose with their kills, and the weapon that gave them the testosterone rush?  Yeah.  Man-kill a deer with a melee weapon… now there would be a reason to pose.

Unplug.

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