"I'm a Hunter!"

In case you live in a hole, or have been out of the country for the last month, let me bring you up to speed. It was "Deer Huntin'" season in Utah!

I myself was actually a former hunter in another life, before I got too busy with work and school. But I plan to return at some point... Maybe.

When you are on the outside looking in, this whole fiasco looks quite a bit different. The hunt loses a lot of its glamor once you haven't participated in a while. For instance. I always loved the thrill of the hunt. Which in my case meant driving around for hours on end, or sitting at the edge of a field in sub-zero temps waiting for even a glimpse of a raggedy 2-point that weighed as much a large dog. Really the only thrill was the 4 seconds of intervening time between when I first saw the 2-point and when I shot the two point. But it always seemed worth it.

Now however, when I think of this same scenario, I not only have to take into account all the waiting, driving, soda, BS and the final culmination of the kill, but also the gutting, skinning, butchering, and then eating of this meat that is basically sage-brush flavored and dry as a bone. Is any of this sounding familiar?

So, I guess you can see why I put a maybe on my plans to start hunting again.

I have also noticed another phenomenon that I never caught onto, even when I was a might hunter myself. This would be the tradition of wearing your hunting clothes during the week leading up to the actual hunt.

It was like Tuesday or Wednesday of the opening weekend and I started noticing everybody with the 4-wheelers already packed up, towing their tent trailers around and inexplicably wearing their hunter-orange. I can only assume that all of this was to broadcast to the world "I am a Hunter!" What other explanation could there be? I mean, do football players wear their pads and helmet for days, leading up to a game? Do rock climbers walk around wearing their harness with a rope slung over their shoulder? "What's up dude, I'm going climbing in a few days". And yet, hunters find in necessary to dawn their hideous orange sweaters, their dorky hunting caps with the ear flaps and their giant blood-smeared boots. So here's to you, super excited hunter-man. It looks like your going hunting? Good luck, in 4 days!.

(There is one guy I want to exclude from my mockery. That is the guy wearing the full coverall suit of orange. This guy does not have time to decide between a vest, a coat, a hat, etc. "To heck with it" he says, "I am here to kill dear, not look good"... You wear that bad-boy all year if you need to buddy. I think there are few (too few?) people, even among the hardest of the hard-core hunters, that are willing to step into a pair of blaze orange coveralls, zip it up, and head out the door into public view.)

The 90's Called

The other day I was sitting at home and I got the most random phone call… It was “1995” calling, and they wanted their check-books back.? Well, I thanked them for their time but explained that I had stopped making purchases with checks during the Clinton Administration.

It was fitting that I would get such a phone call, because earlier that week I had been rushing to leave town and got stuck behind a lady who apparently didn’t know the rest of us had stopped using checks at the store 13 years ago.

I have to admit that these occurrences are becoming increasingly rare. But regardless of happening less often, they are still equally painful. Let me walk you thought the scenario:

You line up behind a woman at the supermarket. (almost inevitably in her late 40’s to early 50’s) As her items are being scanned she watches patiently, making sure that all prices reflect the coupons she has provided the 16 year-old manning the register. When the total is tallied and the payment requested, she reaches into her purse for what you hope is a card of some sort… Anything made of plastic.

There is a tense moment and then the ultimate let down as you see her retrieve the dreaded check-book. Aaawwwee! An audible grown goes up from the entire line, (not to mention the cashier) as they all know what is coming next.

She takes out the book and gingerly places the carbon copy page between the first and next check. She carefully inspects the total and starts to write it out, “Sixty – five - dollars – and - forty seven/one hundredths.” Then she writes the numbers out, dates the check, signs it, (but not before noting in the lower left corner what the check was for “G-r-o-c-e-r-i-e-s”. Then she begins the tedious process of ripping the check from the check-book. If successful in this, she must then write her home phone number and driver’s her license number down on the top of the check, so they can track her if she is a fraud. Finally, if all has gone according to plan (average time 4 min, 30 seconds), she turns to the back pages and subtracts the newly spent amount from the total balance still left in the account.

By the time this is all done, half her groceries are rotten. (All of my groceries are rotten). The cashier is exhausted and the store is closing. Luckily, I step up and am able to pay for my g-r-o-c-e-r-i-e-s is 2.7 seconds, leave the store and check my balance online when get home (average time, 34 seconds).

Live in the now people!

I Almost Died - Again!

Today, like most other days, I was driving down the road minding my own business, when I noticed a white truck up ahead waiting to pull out. I didn't give it anymore thought until I was ten feet away, when suddenly it started easing out into traffic. I don't really believe in horn-honking, so I just slammed my breaks and got behind the person. As we drove on, I notice that their blinker and their wipers were turning on and off, and that they were swerving back and forth. I decided the person must be high or drunk so I pulled up along side, to get a better look, thinking I might need to call the police. Well, it turns out that the driver was not drunk or high, he was just old.

Now, I understand that this post might be offensive to some people, and that this might be a touchy subject. But frankly, so is dying in a fiery auto accident. (At least for me) I would not even approach this subject if, as the title suggests, it wasn't happening all the time.

At this point I am starting to believe there must be some sort of Gov. cover-up or something, because I seem to be the only person that considers this a problem in our society. And because I am the only one who ever complains about it, I am forced to choose between two unthinkable conclusions.

Scenario #1 - Even though everybody has frequent near-death experiences courtesy of age-ed drivers, the government is working to suppress this information... But why?!?

Scenario #2(I think this one in the most likely) - The elderly have banded together and are deliberately and systematically targeting me, and only me, with these slow moving attempts on my life. Again I ask, "Why?"

I guess the reasons why are essentially irrelevant. What is important is that it is happening people! Fortunately, I am like the one-eyed man in the land of the blind. Try as they might, I always see them coming. "Missed me again grandpa!!!" I yell, shaking my fist out an opened window, as I narrowly escape with my life.

I am writing this as a sort of final will and testament, you know, if something were to happen to me. In the mean time, I am asking for your help. Your silence can't save you. This is not a problem that is going away. Think of your children man! YOUR CHILDREN!!! What will their future be like? Some day the very old will rule this country. And in that day, you will have to look back and say "if only we had listened to Shea". (Rhyming not intended).

Bench Press Hero - Dude.

"Dude, how much you up to on your bench?"
"Probably around like, 300 Dude." (Around "300" is code for 250)
"Dude!"
"Yea, I know."
"300 dude?"
"300 dude."
"How often you benchin' dude?"
"3 times a week bro, I mean dude."
"Duuuddde"

The preceding was an actual conversation that I made up to illustrate how bench-press heroes think and operate. What exactly is a bench-press hero? Let me elaborate, dude.

There are two categories of bench-press hero or BPH. The first is the hardcore BPH. He lifts 3 times a week, and can be found exclusively on the bench-press. Typically he is benching more than he should be, without a spotter, which results in him being pinned under the bar a lot and squealing for help, followed by statements like "I thought it had it dude, I repped that like 10 times yesterday!" The hardcore BPH also does all sorts of weird bench variations that have absolutely no scientific foundation, because he usually made them up himself. He enjoys asking everyone else what they bench - dude, and offers unsolicited advise on how to improve your bench-press performance... Thanks, but no thanks dude.

The second category of BPH only lifts once or twice a month. He is also unfamiliar with any other machine besides the bench-press. His routine consists of doing a set and then standing up and checking himself out in the mirror for 5 minutes, then repeat. This sort of BPH is convinced that his rigorous, bi-monthly program is secretly making him huge. He can definitely see a difference after each set. And he wonders why the hardcore BPH is spending 3 days a week for the same imaginary results.

Oh Edward!

Recently a new craze has been sweeping the nation, yea, even the world. Many of you are well aware of the craze of which I speak. The dreaded “Teenage Vampire Craze”. Or the, “My wife is in love with a make-believe 17 year-old monster - craze”. Now all of you women out there, please spare me the argument. “Oh, well he only looks like a young boy. Really he is over a 100 years old!” Is that right? Then let me ask you this question. Are you into to boys or dirty old men? Don’t try to explain, just answer the question! Of course I am being facetious, we all know what you see in Edward; You like the fact that he looks like a innocent impressionable bot, yet he has 100 years of experience, satisfying women. Have I struck a nerve? I bet I have. You don’t like me speaking of your precious Edward that way, do you? Do You!?! And don’t waste anyone’s time trying to claim that us men are just jealous. Because we know we're jealous! We are not even trying to deny it! But before you sit back in your chair, in a satisfied, victorious manner, let me propose a scenario that might bring you back to reality.

Imagine one day you are going about you business in the house whistling a merry tune or singing a song you made up about your lust for Edward. “La la la, Oh Edward! Won’t you make me your vampire bride! Won’t you teach me your ways of undead love and then… I would start to fantasize about mortal men. Tra la la - la la…” While you are singing and dancing with an imaginary Edward, you happen across your husband, who is clearly engrossed in a book. Not only that, but he is completely oblivious to your presence and couldn’t care less that you are singing about Edward. So you approach him and ask what he is reading, only to get the following response.

“Oh, it is just a book about this really hot 17 year-old girl. In fact, it is about a whole gaggle of smokin’ hot teenage chicks and the men who lust after them. But the girls only look like teenagers, but really they are immortal, and are secretly like 100. You would like it honey, they are just full of passion and burning desire! Oh, and by the way, I think I am in love with main character, even though she is not real and I am a married adult.”

There, you see! It’s not so harmless when the shoe is on the other foot is it? You just consider that next time you’re trying to explain to your husband why you are infatuated with a minor. Or at least don’t act surprised the next time you catch him checking out high schoolers a the mall.

Random Defense of Ugly Animals #1

I am so sick of hearing how great horses are! “Oh, horses are sooo great!” “I just love horses” “Horses run sooo fast!” “Horses are so pretty” “Don’t turn that horse into glue!” “There better not be any horse meat in this dog food!” Blah blah blah… What about the other members of the horse family? Or have you forgotten about the loyal donkey, the noble mule, or the exotic zebra? What about these black sheep of the equine kingdom?

Let me ask you a question? When it comes time pull a plow, which would you rather have, a horse or a mule? If you said a mule, you’re in luck. If you said horse, you better be asking for two or three buddy, because a mule will out pull a stupid horse any day.

What if you are headed into the heart of the Grand Canyon! Horse or donkey? Again, if you picked the horse, I hope you are also packing a shovel, because you are going to need it when and if you reach the bottom…. To bury your freakin’ horse!

Now I know what you are saying: “Oh, but what about herding cattle?” What about herding cattle? Has there ever been an issue with the cows, outrunning the horses? If the issue is needing an animal that can run fast, why don’t we saddle up an ostridge? And if speed is the only thing that makes a horse superior to other equine, then let me ask you this question Mr. Ed. What are you running from punk? Huh? Because let me tell you something. If someone wants to start some trouble with a mule or a donkey, that mule isn’t going anywhere baby. He is going to stand right there like “Yea that’s right, I am sterile. Do you got somthin’ to say about it?... I didn’t think so.” And donkeys are even worse. A donkey is not afraid of anything but running. Donkeys are the like samurai of the animal kingdom. They would rather die standing then live running.

Last but not least, let’s talk about the rugged zebra. You tell me the last time a horse got attacked by a crocodile, a cheetah, a lion? Any horse still able to walk would be for getting the heck out of Dodge (or Africa in this case). But not the reckless zebra, oh no, they are thrill seekers, they prefer danger to the comfort of the sedentary life.

So just consider that next time you feel like praising some horse like that sell-out “Big Brown”. “Big Brown” my foot! Big Brown Tool is more like it. Run if you must, but you will be running alone.

Sara Palin

One of our loyal readers has requested that I do a post on Sara Palin. So I will give it a go, but all I can do is my best.

Who is this "Sara Palin" everyone keeps talking about? Lets start from the beginning... Sara was born in Tennessee, on top of one of the local mountains. Despite living in Alaska, she is very clear that she loves TN and considers it, "the greatest state in the land of the free". Sarah grew up in the woods of TN and was familiar with her surroundings and claims that she knew every tree near her home. Stories have been circulating about her being a bear hunter, but she dismisses these as just that "stories".

Sarah is well educated, and has several areas of expertise, including : challenging corruption, oil exploration, economic reform, and last but not least, "Ingin' Fightin'".

So what exactly fascinates us about Sara? Well, she is easy on the eyes, at least when compared to other female politicians, who I normally like to described as "human jerky". She wears hip glasses and actually has long hair instead of the classic, man-lady power-due. But what of her political views? Where does she really stand on the issues? Just what does Sara Palin stand for?

I think if Sara were here, she would say she stands for America! She stands for conservative values and traditions! She stands for rich, voluminous Auburn hair, with some highlights and tons of body. But above all she stands for you and me friend!

One last note on Sara Palin and her pregnant daughter. Would everyone that is pretending that this actually matters, in any way regarding political issues, please shut your dirty mouth! Especially those of you who blindly defended Willy Clinton during his "60's era" like, free-lovin' romp through 2 terms. That's right, so just put that in you liberal pipe and smoke it!