Another joke post from my QP forum. Original post, no changes were made.
Jack was attending his SF Association Chapter's monthly meeting and had just told them he couldn't make the hunting trip scheduled for the next day because his wife wouldn't let him go.
After listening to the jeers and other derisive remarks from his fellow SF hunting buddies, Jack left to go back home to his wife.
When Jack's friends started arriving to set up camp the next day, who should be there but Jack sitting in front of his tent, beer in hand, Dutch Oven roast stewing away in a hot bed of coals.
"How did you talk your wife into letting you go, Jack?"
"I didn't have to," was Jack's reply. "When I left the meeting I went home and slumped down in my chair with a beer to drown my sorrows. Then my wife snuck up behind me and covered my eyes and said, 'Surprise!'"
"When I peeled her hands back she was standing there in a beautiful see-through negligee and she said, 'Carry me into the bedroom, tie me to the bed and you can do whatever you want.'"
"So here I am!"
"There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter." - Hemingway
The greatest ignorance is to reject something you know nothing about.
__________________ If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen. ― Samuel Adams
I remember the morning I got up extra early to go deer hunting not long after we'd been married.
I'd laid most of my stuff out the night before, and I was sitting in the kitchen putting antiperspirant on my feet (Dry feet is warm feet up North) when Mrs. Noids came downstairs. She muttered something to the effect of "Oh, just go do what you want to do and leave me here alone again" and shuffled off toward the loo.
In a moment of genius, I said "Honey, why don't you come deer hunting with me? It'd be nice to spend some time with you."
- If I may insert a life-lesson here, don't EVER speak those words unless you met your bride while she was fitting a golf ball into the nape of a bucks neck in preparation for truck-skinning it. Don't do it. -
Anyway, she rogered up and spent the next 45 minutes putting on every available piece of clothing in the house, filling an old pink Thermos with vanilla coffee, and packing the pockets of her parka with paraphernalia.
I, in the meantime had pulled an old Mossberg bolt-action 12Ga out of the closet, looked it over, and put it in the truck along with the rest of my stuff. It's going on 6:30, and I had wanted to be at the hunting site by then.
Lots of excited yakking on the drive to Redwood, but when we turned off the human road and started breaking the fresh snow on the dirt road, she got a little more subdued. We parked, unloaded, and I gave her a refresher course on firearms safety and operation of the Mossberg.
The hike in wasn't too bad, if a little noisy, and before long I led her up the slope to an old cedar deadfall overlooking the roadbed. It had a commanding view of the hillside below and offered her a modicum of protection from anyone shooting uphill from below. As she settled in I told her that if she shot a deer and it didn't fall immediately, to just stay where she was and memorize the spot where she last saw it. She said "I've been hunting before, don't you worry about me!"
With that, I pressed on around the ridge and worked down to a platform stand overlooking a small creek. It was located between a large cornfield and a stand of heavy junipers and cedars, and was a prime spot for the morning move to bed down. Before long I was there, tied off the Model 94 and climbed to the stand. About the time I'd pulled the rifle up, I heard "BOOM"...BOOM"...BOOM!!!"
Back down I flew, untied my gun, and hotfooted it over the ridge. What I saw made my blood run cold.
There was my blushing with her empty Mossberg pointed at a man standing on the roadbed, and she was screaming "Get away from my f*cking deer!!"
As I slowly turned to head back to the truck to get my checkbook, I heard the man yell back "You can have the damned deer, Lady! Just let me get my saddle off from him!"
Good ones,,, here's an oldie, maybe you'll remember.
A couple of ole boys who weren't the brightest stars in the sky went deer hunting. One of them killed a huge racked buck. They were having cosiderable troubles dragging him out when they happened on another gent in the woods. He noticed their difficulty and remarked that if they dragged him by the antlers, it would be easier.
" That fella was sure right this is alot easier,, only trouble is,, we're gettin' further and further from the truck. "