Flatline....

All the last week plus, I have had items drifting into my mind that I wanted to post. Sitting in the deer stand (no, Al, I was not a Bambi Killer this year)...driving to and from my dad's....flying today to Richmond. And then....I sit here looking at a blank screen. I cannot remember anything.

What the hell is wrong with me? Certainly something must be bothering me. Something must have sparked my interest enough to post about it.

I KNOW there was something I wanted to post. I am pretty sure it had to do with something Al would relate to. But it is gone. Welcome to old age Lyle....oops, I revealed my true name....take 2....Welcome to old age Orracle.

I guess I will just move on. I will go to my meetings tomorrow. Perhaps then I will have that spark back to come to my room and post the post that everyone has been waiting for. Yep. It's coming. I can feel it.

Know The Enemy

On a day where I sat yet again waiting so patiently for the opportunity to create that anticipated steaming gutpile, my Vikings went to Green Bay.

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?

But, Ye Shall Know Thy Enemy!

The enemy takes several shapes:

1. Brother in Law (his career trains him to look convincing)
2. Nephew (don't let his smile fool you!)
3. 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.

Purple Pride

Oh, yeah....fire Childress now please.