Before I get into the meat of this offering (pun intended), I need to preface it by stating that I'm fine with other people hunting. I subscribe to Ted Nugent's opinions on the matter, but I do not, myself, hunt.
When I was younger, I spied a little birdie perched atop a tall pine tree and figured I might be able to shoot it with the .22 pump I had in my hands.
I was right. The bird landed in front of me, and only then did I notice how pretty it was, or had been. Meanwhile my friend, who was over by the beaver pond, had discovered the wonders of shooting little tweety birds with a 12 gauge shotgun. Later on, another person in our group was successful in his attempt to shoot, but unsuccessful in his attempt to kill, a chipmunk.
And years of therapy later, I don't hunt...but I don't have a problem with those that do.
This is Utah, after all. Kids are actually let out of school early and given days off to go hunt. It's under the guise of "Fall Break", but we all know what it's for.
I don't understand why non hunting kids can't get their own semi holiday. It would have been nice to get days off of school for Playstation practice, girl oogling, or even mullet grooming. (Remember, I went to High School during the mid nineties. 'Nuff said.)
So anyway, I was at work and had woke up long enough to go the men's room. As I opened the door, I heard this from the nearby break room: "My son got his deer! He's been gone for weeks! We're so excited!"
If you don't live in Utah and you decide you want to visit, but are worried about being spotted as an outsider, and you are visiting during the fall, all you have to do is greet most of the residents with the traditional Utah salutation: "Ja gitcher deer?"
"Oh fine, thank you! Nice to meet you too!"
That's right! In Utah, you get your very own deer! It's reserved just for you! You have to hunt him down, shoot him and gut him, but he's yours! YAY!
On very bad days, people will say, "Tom is so sad, he didn't get his deer this year." This is followed by a collective sigh and shaking of heads and the passing of the Jell-O salad.
Now because I don't hunt, I don't quite know how this works. I think it's a sort of secret they don't tell you until you pass the required hunter's safety class, but I'm guessing that you probably get into a lot of trouble if you shoot a deer that isn't yours. Yes, I see where the difficulty lies. How do they know to whom the deer belongs? The fact that this has remained a secret has done nothing more than leave ample room for my brainmeats to run and play. (I've been told that this is not always a wise move on my part.) Is the person's name shaved into the animal's fur or something? Well, based on things I've discovered but mostly made up, I think it is, and in big block letters.
The man doing the shaving lives in a small shack on top of Mount Ogden and goes by the name of Randy Barbasol, or "Uncle Shavey" to his friends. He used to teach Hunter's Safety, until he received the Calling. Once a year, a secret dispatch of names is sent to him, and after he receives them, he stealthily shaves the names into the fur of sleeping deer. He's like a ninja, like that, only he doesn't bathe very often.
Now, this is why hunter's spend so much money on rifle scopes: they have to make sure that they get THEIR deer! If they shoot a deer that doesn't have their name shaved into it, then they have to go to court and appear before Ted Nugent, where his band plays "Cat Scratch Fever" as he pronounces sentence. If you are pronounced guilty, you are locked in a room with Justin Bieber, and the Jonas Brothers bring you rice cakes and Kentucky Fried Spam for lunch.
This also explains why hunters are sometimes gone for long periods of time. They are most likely doing time for shooting other people's deer, and being forced to listen to Justin Bieber and the Jonas Brothers in a "jam" session.
Except for the brave few souls that were kicked out of Hunter's Safety class, but broke into the teacher's secret vault of secrets and then came forward with this information, we would have no insight into this intricate and deadly world of the hunter. We applaud them. Both of us.
Also, so as not to offend any serious hunters out there who may find themselves bored out of their skulls one night and might happen to stumble across this post, or any that were sent here on dare, I offer the following video, in hopes that it may restore the respect and solemnity they feel in living at one with nature, which they might feel has been somehow mocked in this most serious and thought provoking look into their world:
Second Week Of Deer Camp - Da Yoopers
When I was younger, I spied a little birdie perched atop a tall pine tree and figured I might be able to shoot it with the .22 pump I had in my hands.
I was right. The bird landed in front of me, and only then did I notice how pretty it was, or had been. Meanwhile my friend, who was over by the beaver pond, had discovered the wonders of shooting little tweety birds with a 12 gauge shotgun. Later on, another person in our group was successful in his attempt to shoot, but unsuccessful in his attempt to kill, a chipmunk.
And years of therapy later, I don't hunt...but I don't have a problem with those that do.
This is Utah, after all. Kids are actually let out of school early and given days off to go hunt. It's under the guise of "Fall Break", but we all know what it's for.
I don't understand why non hunting kids can't get their own semi holiday. It would have been nice to get days off of school for Playstation practice, girl oogling, or even mullet grooming. (Remember, I went to High School during the mid nineties. 'Nuff said.)
So anyway, I was at work and had woke up long enough to go the men's room. As I opened the door, I heard this from the nearby break room: "My son got his deer! He's been gone for weeks! We're so excited!"
If you don't live in Utah and you decide you want to visit, but are worried about being spotted as an outsider, and you are visiting during the fall, all you have to do is greet most of the residents with the traditional Utah salutation: "Ja gitcher deer?"
"Oh fine, thank you! Nice to meet you too!"
That's right! In Utah, you get your very own deer! It's reserved just for you! You have to hunt him down, shoot him and gut him, but he's yours! YAY!
On very bad days, people will say, "Tom is so sad, he didn't get his deer this year." This is followed by a collective sigh and shaking of heads and the passing of the Jell-O salad.
Now because I don't hunt, I don't quite know how this works. I think it's a sort of secret they don't tell you until you pass the required hunter's safety class, but I'm guessing that you probably get into a lot of trouble if you shoot a deer that isn't yours. Yes, I see where the difficulty lies. How do they know to whom the deer belongs? The fact that this has remained a secret has done nothing more than leave ample room for my brainmeats to run and play. (I've been told that this is not always a wise move on my part.) Is the person's name shaved into the animal's fur or something? Well, based on things I've discovered but mostly made up, I think it is, and in big block letters.
The man doing the shaving lives in a small shack on top of Mount Ogden and goes by the name of Randy Barbasol, or "Uncle Shavey" to his friends. He used to teach Hunter's Safety, until he received the Calling. Once a year, a secret dispatch of names is sent to him, and after he receives them, he stealthily shaves the names into the fur of sleeping deer. He's like a ninja, like that, only he doesn't bathe very often.
Now, this is why hunter's spend so much money on rifle scopes: they have to make sure that they get THEIR deer! If they shoot a deer that doesn't have their name shaved into it, then they have to go to court and appear before Ted Nugent, where his band plays "Cat Scratch Fever" as he pronounces sentence. If you are pronounced guilty, you are locked in a room with Justin Bieber, and the Jonas Brothers bring you rice cakes and Kentucky Fried Spam for lunch.
This also explains why hunters are sometimes gone for long periods of time. They are most likely doing time for shooting other people's deer, and being forced to listen to Justin Bieber and the Jonas Brothers in a "jam" session.
Except for the brave few souls that were kicked out of Hunter's Safety class, but broke into the teacher's secret vault of secrets and then came forward with this information, we would have no insight into this intricate and deadly world of the hunter. We applaud them. Both of us.
Also, so as not to offend any serious hunters out there who may find themselves bored out of their skulls one night and might happen to stumble across this post, or any that were sent here on dare, I offer the following video, in hopes that it may restore the respect and solemnity they feel in living at one with nature, which they might feel has been somehow mocked in this most serious and thought provoking look into their world:
Second Week Of Deer Camp - Da Yoopers
