Shall I say that despite only seeing one deer small enough to do a fireman's carry on that I was thankful for the hunting outlet so I was not forced to watch the whole game?
The enemy takes several shapes:
- Brother in Law (his career trains him to look convincing)
- Nephew (don't let his smile fool you!)
- Top Dog of Systems at Metlife (she'll woo you by referring to you as 'BigSexy')
While this is not a comprehensive list, these three are evil. They really are not one of them. They do not go to Green Bay proudly wearing blaze orange. They are not from the woods. They come wearing their Nike and Starter wear. Jerzees bought in a mall. City Folk. But I digress....
As I sit, patiently awaiting the snort of a 12 point buck or the bellar of a hot-in-heat doe, my cell phone buzzes.
Hmmm, what could it be? A text message?
Yes, they catch you no matter where you are, no matter the activity you are doing.
Oh yes, to people resistant to the technology world we live in I have said,
"Kicking and screaming is no way to enter the 21st century!".
Now I am the one kicking and screaming. Wishing I did not have such technology available to me while hunting. While in the woods. Way up north. While climbed half way up a damn tree. Freezing my butt off.
To my enemy, I hereby declare this:
I shall not waiver. I will always be true. True to my Purple. You can take your swampwater-wrinkled, mosquito larve eatin', grit guzzlin', AARP qualified quartback. Go cry with him. Go practice faking injury to get a roughing call. Take him back to the swamps of home and leave him there where he first superglued his upper lip to his teeth (watch the boy try to talk once).
A new day is coming. Once again, Green Bay will suck. Order shall be restored in what was once the NFC Norris/Black and Blue Division of the NFL.
Oh, yeah....fire Childress now please.