Tuesday, November 30, 2010

With Apologies to TJIC

I was in Maryland over the weekend with some family friends. It was hunting season, which my friend and I found out when we went for a walk in the woods and saw a lot of guys with rifles and orange jackets. It made me reconsider my sartorial decision of a 'navy blue looks like deer brown at a distance' jacket, but thankfully our ignorance and bad planning here didn't have significant consequences.

For the life of me, I just can't understand the appeal of hunting. As far as I can tell, it seems 99% boring, and 1% intensely horrifying. And once you've killed your deer, it just gets worse - you have to transport the bloodied carcass, 'clean' it (a euphemism whose intricacies you can be grateful you don't need to explore), and then butcher it. And after all that, you end with enormous amounts of a meat that most people find (at least by revealed preference) to be significantly less tasty than a McDonalds cheeseburger.

I am aware that this post marks me as an effeminate ninny who is grossly hypocritical about the source of the meat he eats. Still, it all sounds ghastly. It makes Nascar look like a game of Backgammon at the Gentlemens Club.

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