Proud of yourself, little man?

So, apparently there's no point to the Universe as the only ducks I saw were a million fucking miles in the sky. Out of range. Out of sight. So very windy that the trees were all bent sideways about ten feet up. Painful. On the plus side I had a little island all to my self, well, Ghost was there too. I did have to carry dekes and bag and gun 100 yards through the water. Then I went back for the dog. And vice versa on the way out. I'd do it again, of course, but just with some shootable ducks.

Peace out, bitches!

Are we Ducks or what?

The winds are blowing heavy and cold. They have been all day. All my gear is in the car. I can't wait! If there's a point to the universe ducks will be flying and dying.

Peace out, bitches!

Well, a gun that's unloaded and cocked ain't good for nothin'.

So it ends: raining and somewhat unsuccessful but nonetheless enjoyable. I shot five pheasant in five days and all of them were over my dog. My goofy, hyperactive little dog turned into a real hunting dog on this trip and I couldn't be happier. Sure, I threatened to kill him a couple of days ago when he ran off into a cornfield but that was then and this is now and while he smells like alfalfa and ass I still love him. The skies opened up on us this afternoon but a couple of beers and a few shots of tequila later I'm not too bothered by it all. We had fun, we talked shit, we walked forever, and we managed to get a couple of birds in the pot. All's well.

Photos for you and yours.

Peace out, bitches!

Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains! You know, you're the second guy I've met today that seems to think a gat in the hand means the world by the tail.

So today was much better. I'm reborn. I sat in the beautiful fall woods by a gently flowing stream, my dog at my heel, leaves the color of fire and the deepest blue sky as the backdrop. I sat in this serene state with a twenty year old shotgun and a simple wooden mouth call and tried to trick a covey of quail into walking into their deaths. It was so wonderfully calming and real and of the moment and I will remember it forever.

Here are some photos of the day. I hope you enjoy them and realize that hunting is more than just killing and shooting. It's also fathers and sons and friends and challenging yourself and being out amongst the flora and fauna that you never see when surrounded by steel and concrete and plastic and people.

Peace out, bitches!

We should have shotguns for this kind of deal.

How depressing. No birds added to the pot today. I never even fired my weapon. Oh no, wait, I took an impossible shot at a quail and missed. V shot a pheasant and then lost it in the brush. Typical. Grey, cold, rained a little. Nothing else to report other than that I'm totally bummed out. Our little spot isn't treating us too nicely this year. Sadness.

Peace out, bitches!

Some weird fuckin' shit, eh, Bud?

Here are some more photos. Venard got a bird. The second one is the pile of burrs I pulled off of and out of my poor little dog. The last one is my new motto and comes from the back of a little old ladie's electric wheel chair. Go Oregon!

We walked a million miles and only got one bird and we are getting crazy. Of course, on the way out we saw three roosters just chillin' by the side of the road. Ah, yes, the peaceful joys of hunting.

Peace out, bitches!

"You missed, Mr. Bond." "Did I?"

Here are some snaps from the first day of hunting out here in the wilds of Eastern Oregon. It's tough but at least we're all together.

Peace out, bitches!

All the time, pal. Now buzz off!

I am reborn into the world! Jobs are over and most of me made it out. I'll eventually have to drop back in on the working life and deal with people but for now I'm hunting and happy. Well, mostly happy.

United Airlines is furloughing employees, forcing people into pay cuts, and charging for every bit of luggage including your one piece. They are also paying their executives top dollar. Apparantly, the best and brightest can't run your company and industry into the ground effectively without proper compensation. Full disclosure: this all started when I got a cheap ticket, then took my gear and dog to the airport and found out at the counter that I needed to pay an additional $225 (ticket was $235) to get the dog ($175), the duffel ($20), and the gun case ($30) to Boise, Idaho. Nice of them to never have mentioned any of this during any of my various calls to them prior to showing up at the airport. Good times! The employees of United know this is all bullshit and can see the writing on the wall: death of air travel. Rest assured though, whichever genius is the CEO at that point is still going to pass GO and collect several million dollars for ruining a company. Get ready for the Third World, people. Or, at the very least, the Second World.

I shot a quail today. One bird, one round. We were scouting so we only stopped in a few places to work out the kinks. I hope to see more game tomorrow or else the excess baggage fees are going to make me pull a Fight Club on United. Where are their corporate headquarters anyway?

Peace out, bitches!

I guess that's the way the whole durned human comedy keeps perpetuatin' itself.

If you sit back and watch and listen you often begin to feel like there really is no point in trying but you try nonetheless. Watching the great mass of humanity kill and eat and fuck and destroy and create and waste and invent and talk and grow and make commercials is a lesson in the ultimate futility of it all. I often find myself getting lost in the seemingly meaningless complexity and cruelty of the web of interactions. It's at these moments when I put down the Nation or Foreign Affairs and turn off CNN and try to sit quietly and soak it all in on a non-communicative level. You know, silence myself so I can hear everyone and everything else. It helps. I look at the Midget and I see promise. I look at the girl and I see love. I listen to the ocean and watch birds flying overhead and I see the beauty of the Universe. When I'm really lucky I feel like I can see the mountains slowly eroding, geologic time puts it all in perspective.

That all said, the Republican Party can't even be civil about the President winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Amazing. They hate our freedoms, I guess.

Peace out, bitches!

I am the most renowned killer of fish in the whole United States Army Air Force.

The guns, Thumper and F.N.G., are cleaned and ready and cased up. They're both very anxious, none more so than F.N.G. as this'll be its first pheasant hunt. It's really a duck hunter but it has dabbled in quail and dove. It'll be fine, especially since it will be playing more of a back up role. Tavarus Jackson to Brett Favre by the by. The blind bag will be making the trip as well because it has become the repository of all things good and noble when hunting: snacks, ammo, maps, compass, first aid kit, calls, chokes, etc. I never used to carry a bag of AKS when upland hunting but ever since I started duck hunting I've realized how helpful it really is to have a bag. Yeah, sure, it stays in the car but it's nice not to have all of that stuff rolling around the car. I'm donating my jacket to Doc so I'll have to procure a new one at some point but so it goes. The entire team is all in for the first time in a million years and Ghost is coming so it should be fun. It should be productive. It should be utter mayhem.

Peace out, bitches!

Tell me exactly what you saw and what you think it means.

Glenn Beck is on the cover of Time magazine in an almost playful looking photo with the teaser, "Mad Man: Glenn Beck and the angry style of American politics." What the fuck? Last I heard, this jackass was screaming at people, contemplating killing Michael Moore, and talking about suicide, all the while calling a sitting president a Nazi, the devil and who knows what else. Seems to me he should be getting a little sit down with a shrink and possibly getting his ass kicked off the air for being a complete nutter and possibly a domestic terrorist. I'm just sayin'.

It's amazing how deeply entrenched both the white sense of entitlement and racism are in white American culture. The usually unquestioned normative standard in this place is of whiteness. White cultural standards of beauty, success, art, and everything are the default and few people question this, even fewer of those who do are white. Glenn Beck screams for Tea bag parties and off the zombies go, protesting against their own economic self-interest. An avowed member of an "up with the Confederacy" organization shouts at the President in a joint session of Congress and isn't instantly tarred and feathered. Why? Because the President is half-black and everyone is apparently OK with a racist caveman blurting out some bullshit at him. First time in sixty some years of TV coverage of the Congress and no one gets fired? Interesting.

I say it's high time the wimp-ass Dems bring it to the Republicans and enough of this bi-partisan shit. If a health care bill passes with no public anything I think we burn some shit to the ground, metaphorically of course. Out with the old and in with the new. Change? Hope? Yeah, not without some ass-kicking and head chopping, metaphorically of course. The more things change the more they stay the same.

Peace out, bitches!

Hey Torquemada, whaddya say?

I'm sick and tired and had to clean up the house as it was getting to that point and now I'm going to pay my ex her monthly stipend and get an oil change and carwash. Not. The. Day. I. Had. Planned. In short, we are displeased.

BUT, I saw this on Facebook and I'm beginning to feel better.

Peace out, bitches!