Shoot ’em up

Since the birth of activism in our dear country, since the very first we-want-this-and-you-better-listen group emerged from the working classes, there have existed others known as the oh-Jesus-why-can’t-those-people-just-shut-up group. During the 19th century, when the Industrial Revolution gave birth to factories and urbanization, members of the working class, having few more rights than slaves, came together and said, “Hey, you can’t treat us like this.” And then the labor union was formed and the eight-hour work day was constructed, etc, etc, etc.

Then women came together and decided that they, too, were not treated fairly. They said they were tired of being second-class citizens. They wanted to vote. They wanted to work. They wanted property rights and a political voice. So they got the vote, and they went to work, and all was perfect again (indeed!).

Of course, thousands of other groups have come together for one cause or another: African-Americans, Hispanic-Americans, Asian-Americans, Pro-Rights, Pro-Life, Anti-Capital Punishment, Anti-Guns, Anti-Alcohol, Anti-Drugs, Pro-Marijuana and so on and so forth.

In our very recent history, animal rights and environmental issues groups have become just as prevalent as all other activist and lobbying groups in our country. Perhaps these groups are the most prevalent. I think one hears more of the “Kill Bambi, and I’ll kill you” kind of campaigning than the “Say NO! to the W.T.O.”

As I mentioned earlier, with an activist group comes another group of people whose sole desire is for activists to shut up. You can call these people opponents, but, in reality, they are just a group of people who don’t see the issue as an issue. It never occurs to some people, believe it or not, that purchasing a huge, gas-guzzling, toxic fume-pumping SUV might be bad for the world in which they live. It never occurs to some people that the bananas they’re buying at the grocery store to put on their Cheerios in the morning actually cost the lives of several South American children.

So, when some long-haired, Birkenstock-clad twenty-something is standing at an intersection with a big poster reading, “Say NO! to Ford Explorers,” some people, specifically those people driving Ford Explorers, clench their teeth and say to themselves, “Good God, why can’t that guy just take a shower and shut up.” And they drive past the Greenpeace guru, forgetting about him as soon as some P.O.D. or Puddle of Mudd song comes on the radio.

So, now that we understand the history of activists and their pseudo-opponents, I would like to discuss a certain topic that will surely invoke a variety of responses.

I will make you all aware now that I am not going to discuss this topic in the politically correct, socially-sensitive approach to which I usually adhere. I am not going to make sound or well-founded, statistic-exhaustive judgments; I am not going to discuss the history of the topic, nor am I going to discuss the different views of the topic. I am simply going to state my case. Here I go.

The issue: hunting. My stance: hunting is ridiculous.

Hunting, outside of the many animal rights viewpoints concerning the subject, is, perhaps, the most ridiculous “sport” in the world. Come on, are men really that stupid that they have to go out in the middle of the woods and kill stuff?

I saw this commercial the other day about some brand new, super-duper-charged hunting All-Terrain Vehicle that came with special hunting lights and a rifle case and a couple of rocket launchers.

Seriously, I thought I was watching a “U.S. Army Home Shopping Network” commercial. I’m sure this “vehicle” cost $15,000. And what for?

So Bob Beer-Gut Bundy can go out to his lease on the weekends and blow up whatever happens to be moving that day. Come on. I can’t think of anything more ridiculous.

Anti-gun and anti-hunting people say that animals have rights, too, and that hunting is murder. Pro-hunting people say that there are too many deer in the world and they’re just trying to help out by killing a few of them.

I say, “Hunters, join the Army.”

If you have that much testosterone and primal instinct running through your veins, if you are willing to wake up at three in the morning so you can hide behind some blind and wait for the ducks to come, if you dress up in special boots and face paints, I say join the Army. See how fun it is when someone’s shooting at you. If you believe owning a gun is your God-given American right, take it with you to the Army. Trust me, they’ll be happy to see you.