MY PLEASURE

Hunting season!

Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe people shouldn’t hunt.

I’m just saying I never could.

Unless I needed to survive, that is.

I’m just saying I don’t understand the thrill of hunting.

And I guess I don’t need to.

And that’s why hunters don’t have to justify—at least to me—why they like to kill animals.

But still they do . . .

“I like being out in nature.”

Well, so do I. That’s why I take early morning walks in the park.

“My mom used to kill chickens on our farm. What’s the difference?

I bet your mother never put on orange camouflage fatigues and stalked the chicken coup.

“It’s the sport of it.”

“So is archery.”

“The deer population is out of control.”

“Let rangers to do it.”

I freeze the meat and then eat it all year long.”

Yup, Me too. Beef, chicken, pork, and turkey.

So, let me say again . . .

I respect your right to hunt.

But please don’t expect me to understand why.

Because I never . . .

Well, now wait a minute . . .

Obviously there must be some emotion hunters get out of hunting.

Maybe some kind of satisfaction?

Hmmm?

Let me think about this.

I guess if someone rounded up all the perverts and predators  . . .

Let them loose in the woods. The deep woods.

And then rounded up all the other parents whose children (including grown ones) have been harmed by a predator and gave them stun guns and tazers . . .

“EEEEOWWW!”

“Take that you sicko, sado, son of a bitch!”

Oh, yeah . . .

I definitely could hunt those animals.

Always, Em-Musing

P.S.  Off to Korea tomorrow morning!   Can’t wait!  Don’t know the logistics of blogging while there because I’m going to be in a province about three hundred miles from Seoul. But I’m sure going to try.

Daume bayo. Or see you next time.