Why You Should Buy Me a Drink Tonight

1.  I’m running late to my own party and am about to have a heart attack because of it.

2.  The building where my car was parked was not unlocked after the thing today you fucking liar, liar, pants on fire and I had to haul all my boxes around the side of the building and my back hurts.

3.  Because nobody bought me a drink on my birthday.

4.  Because I have twelve dollars and I might need that for gas.

5.  Because I asked him for water and he gave me gasoline.  Ha, no not really.  That, obviously, would have solved number 4.

The Recalcitrant Brother Saves Me From Making a Fool of Myself

Too bad for Springfield, Illinois.  I was just getting ready to get on here and apologize to you for regularly making fun of the fact that you were terrorized by a pack of feral pigs in the 1800s.

Seriously, my thinking has been, you didn’t have fifty guys with guns in your town who could shoot at the pigs all at once?  You might not kill them all, but you’d kill a lot and scare the other ones off to, hell, I don’t know Taylorville.  You don’t every hear about Taylorville’s feral pig problem, do you?

But then I saw this story and this photo and was like, damn, well, if you’re talking fifty to a hundred feral pigs some of which are <i>this</i> size?

Who could blame you for letting those fuckers roam free unchallenged through the streets of your town?

But then I called the recalcitrant brother, who has been working over in that part of Alabama recently, who informed me that no one in West Georgia/East Alabama is taking this seriously as a story and certainly no one thinks this is some serious competition to Hogzilla.


Well, gather ’round folks, and listen to what the recalcitrant brother told me.

1.  These folks didn’t find that pig out in the wild.  Unlike Hogzilla, this pig was raised on a private game preserve.  The same game preserve the kid’s dad paid to get him the right to shoot at said giant pig.  In other words, they knew the pig was there and it didn’t have any place to go.  That’s where it was raised and fed and taken care of and there are high fences all around the place so the pig couldn’t leave if it wanted to.

2.  The kid shot the pig with a revolver only in the literal sense of the word.  Yes, it was a revolver.  No, it wasn’t a revolver like most of us non-gun nuts think of a revolver.  Again, he didn’t wander into the woods armed only with his trusty revolver and happen upon a wild hog.  He knew what he was going to shoot, approximately where it would be, what boundaries it could not leave, and what equipment to bring to kill it.  Hell, he even had trackers armed with high powered rifles if anything went wrong.  In other words, this was a controlled hunt in every sense of the word.

Shoot, I’ll say it.  This wasn’t a “hunt” this was a “go find.”  How is this not cheating in every sense of the word?

Explain this to me, hunters.