Friday, November 26, 2010

The Quagmire: Week One

A Quagmire of Thoughts From a Tree Stand

Hey Blogging World!
As previously posted, I'm starting this little rant, rave, review and random weekly compilation of the outdoor world.  As this is my first go, I have a lot of my own input, a little from various of my goose pit compatriots, and a great review of a coffee place from one of my best blogging reviewers.  

Rant of a disgruntled Huntress:

I've written previously about hating Irony and how this year has been so different from the last.  As luck would have it, I actually shot a deer exactly one year to the date from my last kill.  The bow shot was about 30 yards away.  I shot, it hit, she ran.  And ran. And ran.  We tracked her for 2 hours in the rain.  The blood trail was lost and Thanksgiving dinner needed to be made.  Least to say, this huntress has sore legs and an even more over-worked conscience.



Newest Inductee to the "That's Not Country" Hall of Shame: 
                      Congratulations go to.... 
             Gwyneth Paltrow 
                           I watch GAC with the same religiousness as when I was in 8th grade and watched Saved By the Bell every morning before school.  Generally, I like what I see.  GAC is really good at mixing new songs with old classics.  However, I was pretty horrified when I saw the Academy Award winning actress appearing on the screen, attempting to belt out a song entitled "Country Strong".  I'm still trying to figure out why the name of the song is the exact replica of Blake Shelton's rockin ballad.  I get that she's promoting her movie and wants to embody her character but it completely does not resonate a feeling of true country music.  Tisk, Tisk Gwyneth.  Do us a favor, stick with starring in movies and making more money in a month than I do in three years rather than trying to infiltrate this classic genre. 

Quote of the Week:

"I watched Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert's duet
and I cried and got a hard-on at the same time"

-Goose Pit member who wishes to remain nameless


Outdoor Reader Coffee Place Review
(The first one- Yayyyyyy!)
 
Name: Albert A. Rasch
Blog: The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
 

    I was the second person to find Hunt Like You're Hungry. It's not often that a young and attractive woman bowhunts, shoots black powder, and then writes about it. I think many of us (Particularly us men.) still tend to think of girls that hunt as a novelty, but as they are the largest growing group of hunters, it behooves us to recognize their contribution to the sport. Therefore in recognition of her accomplishments to the sport, I immediately included her in her own TROC Rodeo knowing full and well that my friends would high tail it over there and say howdy.

I suggested to HLYH that I would like to see a series on Hunt Like You’re Hungry, something uniquely hers.  So when she asked about a favorite post hunting or fishing spot, where you might kick back and relax after a hard day's hunt or day on the water, I was pleased to participate.

There is a particular spot that I tend to frequent, and not because they are friendly and cheerful to me, which invariably, they are, but because the unwitting audience never ceases to entertain!

There's a Starbucks in my neck of the suburban woods, where they all know my name. They know the Mrs, and the kid's names too. They know me so well, that they keep a picture of me posted on the wall for all to see. They're actually very military friendly, and since I come to see them the moment I get into town, they make me feel like I'm family. When I am home, we go there on our way out to the flats, and when I was hog hunting regularly, I used to stop by afterwards.

Having said that, not everyone in sunny suburban Florida is as open and forthcoming as my friends at SBs are. Though this isn't quite what HLYH had in mind, I think it fits in anyway.

Imagune my surprise when the youth of Lakewood Ranch failed to acknowledge my masterful presence when I walked into my coffee shop after I don't know how many hours (Days?) of traveling back from the Afghan wastelands.

It was Friday night and the place was mobbed by teenage prowling like spike bucks, underage girls that looked anything but, and tweens too young to be there in the first place. The place reeked of teenage testosterone, musk perfumes, and coffee.

My trigger finger twitched subconsciously.

After being shoved, pushed, or bumped into one too many times, I let loose.

The scrawny teenaged punk that shoved into me was wearing hip hugging, low ride jeans that would have been better put to use on a long legged model of dubious moral turpitude. He was wearing enough earrings in all the wrong places, that I idly wondered how he would ever make it through the Homeland Security's screening process at the airports. He smelled of cheap perfume, or maybe cologne and his altogether too short T-shirt sported numerous tears and holes that didn't come from honest use.

After several months of sucking dust and ducking Iranian made107 rockets, I wasn't in the mood to tolerate lifestyle differences, or the extravagance of youth. All I wanted was a hot Grande-Breve-No-Foam-Latte, with six Sugars in the Raw. Seriously is that too much to ask for? I quiet moment of respite, enjoying my coffee, that's all I wanted.

I grabbed a fistful of T-shirt, kicked his leg out from under him, and yanked flat ass off his Sketcher clad feet. His friends froze in place as he upended, his stick like legs akimbo.

The Mrs nonchalantly stepped to one side.

In my best imitation of a pissed off Drill Sergeant I bellowed:

"YOU LONG HAIRED LITTLE PUKE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM!"

He was trying to get his feet under him again, but I kept yanking him from one side to the other.

"I HAVE JUST, AND I MEAN JUST, GOT BACK FROM THE WORSE PLACE ON THE FACE OF THIS EARTH, MAKING SURE YOU GET TO OCCUPY VALUABLE SPACE AND BREATH MY AIR!"

The manager sticks her head out of the office, sees that it's me, cheerfully waves and says, "Hi Mr Rasch! How nice to see you again!"

I wave back with my free hand.

I turn back to the rest of the now very quiet mob of kids. Quietly, in the most menacing tone I can come up with I say, "You're lucky I'm feeling generous tonight. You and your friends get your dog smelling asses out of here and don't come back until I'm gone." I unceremoniously drop him on his bony rear end. He scrambled back like a flipped over crab, getting away from me as quickly as his uncoordinated and gangly appendages could move.

The shop was eerily quiet; the only sounds were that of coffee being made, and jazz playing over the speakers.

The mob of kids made their way out the door hastily.

"You happy now?" Asked the Mrs.

"I am." A smug look planted itself across my face, "I am, quite happy indeed!"

I was about to place my order when two steaming Grande-Breve-No-Foam-Lattes appeared on the counter.

I look up at the smiling faces of my Baristas.

"Welcome home Mr Rasch! We are so happy to have you back!"

 A great welcome to The Quagmire, nothing says "Welcome Home" and "I love the outdoors" than showing some punk kids who's boss.  Thank you, Mr. Rasch for your contribution to my little project! And a bigger thank you for all you do to serve our great nation! 


Redneck Christmas:

Our beautifully shotgun lit tree
Thanksgiving is over so now all attention swivels towards that fantastic time of year that Rednecks' aversion to all things gaudy really gets to shine.   The next few installments will show how one can really embrace their redneck side in order to fully express their Christmas joy. This little idea comes from our own Christmas tree.  Sauntering around Bass Pro, we noticed lights that had shotgun shells with Christmas lights within them. Awesome idea we figured, of course until we saw they were running $20 a strand. Little expensive for us, but we ended up doing it ourselves. Buying cheap strings of lights from Walmart, we took our shotguns and some appropriate colored shells to the land we hunt. If you want to do the same at home, take the shell casing and bend one side down, insert the light and you're done!  Combining Christmas decorating with shooting has never been so fun! Ted Nugent would defiantly approve!

There it is, folks! 
Like what you see? Have a review on a great place to eat after hunting or a place you just love to go to obtain necessary outdoor implements? Share it and you'll be featured on future Quagmire editions! 
Check Out The Quagmire page for rules, ideas and where to send your submission! 

Have a great week, y'all! 

Happy hunting!

5 comments:

Ryan said...

Dude, you have everything in that post but the kitchen sink! Nice read.

The Average Joe Fisherman
http://averagejoefisherman.blogspot.com/

Albert A Rasch said...

HLYH,

Thanks again for allowing me to oarticipate!

Love the Christmas decor idea!

Best Regards,
Albert A Rasch™
Spoons: They're Not Just for Cereal!

Albert A Rasch said...

ummm...

participate...

Bad finger!

Albert

Murphyfish said...

This idea of yours, the quagmire, certainly works me dear, love Albert's piece. Keep up the good work.
John

Editor said...

Does the Christmas Place Yuletide Ball count?