Saturday morning, MSU vs Indiana later today, moving left to right - TopicsExpress



          

Saturday morning, MSU vs Indiana later today, moving left to right on my radio dial with George Blaha and the “team.” This morning, I’m working on BUCKLAR DYSTROPHY, the tenth Woods Cop story, the whole focus on Grady Service and one very strange deer season in which he runs into a series of people who are crazed by and addicted to shooting big deer, most illegally. Hornophiles, if you will. In the thirties here, rain predicted, gray overcast, leaves coming off trees, perfect fall day. Will start the story off with a little deerggerel (think doggerel), and it organize it into five acts (rather than three parts), a sop to my good pal Willy Boy Shakespeare, who is rumored (never proven) to have poached at least one deer in his spectacularly mysterious life. I suspect he would have enjoyed these hinky-kinky extremist out-there outdoor folks. Anthem of Secret Trophy Hunters To tell a story such as this Think how snakeys twist and hiss. One must not shed a single deer To shoot oneself a great big deer. Do not be so namby pamby And let yourself think of Bambi. Count the point, inches and all Your taxidermist can fix it for your wall. Knocking own huge horned rack things Need not be so very taxing. Learn to hunt smarter with your brains Not harder with your boots in snow and rain. Get out there in the dark with a nice big light Pretend you’re Army tough, and “own the night.” Hope the game warden’s not around When your trophy crashes to the ground. Yes you’ve got a wall of mounts They make animal lovers very and pout. Tell them killing deer is in your blood, Your dad’s, your uncle Frank’s and your best friend Bud. He who kills the most big bucks Can tell his pals that they all suck. Hunting trophies is your LIFE, It’s cost you a house, 3 kids, 2 dogs and a wife. Best of all in the order of things You do it alone, neither whisper nor sing. You kill in the dark and all alone And keep the work to yourself at home The bottom line’s not bragging rights Over that Let amateurs puff an fight. For you bringing home those huge old deer Is much, much better than a shot and a beer.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 15:00:58 +0000

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