Yeah, I know, but thank to the largely urbanized environmentalist lobby who would rather see bears “protected” (therefore creating a structural shortage in the numbers of these animals) than managed by the hunters (who, having a vested interest in them, would work to obtain a sustainable(1) population of plantigrades, as we already do successfully with other species) we don’t have much bears in France, so I had to adapt.
I’m pretty sure boars shit in the woods too anyway, as this is one of the signs we hunters look for, when we set our minds on adding the elusive hog’s meat on the menu.
Which, somehow, brings me to the next point: can you imagine that between tending to various relatives — I have now rushed and abandoned both my progenitors to the disgraceful (because socialized) care of French public hospitals (“free” care is pretty much all one can afford when one is being robbed and forced to a health care system based on state-scam “redistribution” so en vogue in this last of the genuinely Marxist inspired country. Oh and of course, it’s not free either.) — and dealing with the sudden and unexpected fatal failure of various appliances and contraptions (fridge, car, washing machine, car(2), favorite rocket launcher(3)) while trying to earn a living and yet staunchly refusing to be on the payroll of the Government, in a country where being a state bureaucrat is considered a supreme achievement, I nearly forgot I had a blog(4).
Pile enough shit on a man’s head, and you’ll turn him into a bear(5). Who will, therefore head to the woods, possibly grumbling “F* all that, I’m out of here”.
Which is exactly what I’ve been doing lately, more often than not.
I shall apologize to my most honored readership for going AWOL. Yeah, very much.
The frogman shall rise early…
In the woods, he shall stalk patiently…
Then strike swiftly and put piggy to rest neatly.
Hunting. Nothing like it when it comes to communing with Gaia(6).
To make it all even worse, every time I’ve briefly emerged from the bushes and back to civilization lately, I’ve stumbled upon some particularly infuriating news, foreign and, evidently, domestic.
The deceptive Sarkozy is playing the American public for fools, much in the same way he did with his French audience. While he’s singing the siren song over the Atlantic, including great media stunts, much in the tradition of his mentor Chirac, he’s having a beautiful romance with Al Gore and the cream of the Marxist work unions and “environmental” NGO’s, siding without restrain alongside these post-Kyoto Luddites(7) at home. And that’s not mentioning the way he’s managing to shove the EU Constitution We The People previously refused up our backside, without asking this time. “F* all that, I’m out of here” says the bear.
And without any relation with the previous paragraph, here’s a cool picture of a pack of hunting dogs.
Just because I can, and because dogs have much higher moralities and are far more trustworthy than any French politician, Sarkozy included.