CSotD: Cartoon classic: Home folks
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This Real Life Adventures ran November 30, 2001, and has been a favorite of mine ever since.
If you've been reading the blog for awhile, you'll know that "Classic" postings are code for my being out of town and unable to post. In this case, I'm back home in the Adirondacks, where people indeed have tree stands. And beer.
Not very often at the same time, despite all the jokes.
"The Second Week of Deer Camp," which makes the Blue Collar Comedy Tour look like Shakespeare in the Park, is beloved among hunters for the same reason even people who enjoy theater got a kick out of Dan Akroyd as "Leonard Pinth-Garnell."
We all know somebody it applies to. Not us. But someone else.
Jeff Foxworthy's entire "you might be a redneck" schtick is based on jokes about the people down the road.
The slob hunter is a figure of merriment in the Swiftian sense: The jokes are mirrors in which every face is seen except our own.
But make no mistake: While the after-hours rules are certainly loosened during hunting season, the actual hunting is taken seriously.
I was never a hunter, but many of my friends were, and it wasn't a hobby. It was something you did in the fall as part of life, going back as many generations as anyone knew, including, for a fair number of them, back before Samuel de Champlain wandered through making all that trouble.
And for quite a few, not getting their buck was equivalent to a farmer losing crops to a hailstorm: You'd get through, but it was an economic setback.
It was never spoken of in such reverend terms.There were serious retellings of hunts and serious swapping of tips at the barber shop, but the stories that were told to larger crowds up at the bar were of the spectacular failures, mostly true but often intertwined with shaggy dog stories that everyone took very seriously until the joke was sprung.
At the time this cartoon came out, I was working with a reporter from up there somewhere who had a nasty scar on his throat, the result of a near-fatal encounter with some nimrod who hadn't bothered to be sure of his target. (That's "nimrod" in the contemporary, not the classical, sense.)
I never heard the story in depth, but certainly got the impression that it was a slob hunter who didn't belong in the woods at all, much less with a gun. Now, to be fair, having never been shot through the throat in the middle of the woods myself, I'm not sure what level of apology and explanation it would take to earn my forgiveness, but, in any case, John did not speak of the fellow with an overflow of compassion.
On the other hand, when I showed him this cartoon, he guffawed and asked me to run him off a copy.
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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