Deer Season! Douche Season!

16 Jul

Choose your character for visualization in the following rant.

Choose your character for visualization in the following rant.

Imagine if you will:

You wake up one morning face down in a bed that has sheets that are way too itchy to be yours; and something smells kind of funny. You turn your head to see an alarm clock but it’s not yours. Where are you? What happened? The last thing you remember you were singing You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ like a douche in the middle of the hotel bar you were at last night with your frat brothers, to this hot girl with with a flawless tan. As you roll over you realize that hot girl is the same skanky girl is lying next to you.

She is actually finished getting ready, that is how she goes in public!?

She is actually finished getting ready, that is how she goes in public!?

“Not again!” you say whispering as you slowly try to get out of the bed without waking her or stirring up the strong smell of either your Ed Hardy cologne or her Wal-Mart body spray and stale cigarettes. As you slowly place one leg into your graffiti covered torn jeans with a rhinestone bedazzled dragon on the back that smell like they were produced and tested in a tobacco factory she wakes up.

Douchebag Jeans are not near as cool as Wyclef Jeans

Douchebag Jeans are not near as cool as Wyclef Jeans

“Hey,” she says, wiping an inordinate amount of drool from her fake tan orange tinted mouth “what’s up?”

In this morning light she is not near as hot as she was the night before, which is almost always the case. There are so many different ways to avoid this interaction the following morning after a hard night of “fun”. I had an uncle that suggested clearing the snorkel in the bathroom at the club to “clear your head” and it will avoid this morning after situation 99 times out of 100, but who wants to do that? I don’t even like peeing in the men’s room at the club.

“Nothing, I gotta get going.” You say pulling your Affliction t-shirt over your chiseled overly tan (especially for being winter) abs.

He definitely has a douchebag affliction

He definitely has a douchebag affliction

“I thought we’d have breakfast or something?” she says sitting up and holding the blanket to cover herself.

“Nah – yeah – well it’s almost time for lunch now…and I uh – gotta be hittin the road.” You say as you glance around the room for your hat and sunglasses and slip on your overly clean white sneakers.

“Well, call me okay!?” she says as she leans forward to get a kiss.

“Uh, Yeah, okay,” you say as you pretend you didn’t see her as you pull your steel ball bearing rosary around your neck and walk out of the room.

The moment you walk out into the hall you realize you must be in her parent’s house, but something is weird. You’ve seen this house before, but when? As you walk down the stairs you pass by a family portrait and recognize the motherly figure standing in the back left of the obvious Sears Studio Portrait photo. “Claire!?” you say with your mouth gaping open as you walk away from the picture down the hall toward the door.

No Dad and No Husband...No Shock.

No Dad and No Husband…No Shock.

“No way the guys will believe this!?” you say to yourself as you pull out your cell phone to call your bros.

As you walk out to lime green H2 Hummer, you notice that your phone has been blowing up all morning. In the myriad of text messages you received since last night you see a text from one friend that says “huge barbeque downtown meet us there!!” No time to change clothes now it’s already lunch time and you are crazy hungover from all those martinis in man glasses you drank.

H2 actually stands for "Have to" stop at the gas station.

H2 actually stands for “Have to” stop at the gas station.

When you make it downtown you park  in a nearby lot almost three blocks away and begin to walk toward downtown you realize you don’t know where the barbeque is, but you are walking toward a fantastic smell and it is absolutely intoxicating. You find yourself overwhelmingly drawn to the sweet smell of delicious barbecue. You cross the street and you spot something on the ground that looks like a stack of money.

Of course you pick it up!?

Of course you pick it up!?

“Holy crap!” you say out loud. It is a stack of hundred dollar bills wrapped in a tight stack of brand new sequential bills that you assume equals up to the $10,000 that is stamped on the binding. Is this your lucky day, or what!? You think to yourself it must be a trap or something. Is Ashton Kutcher going to run out from behind a tree and yell “Punked” as you pick it up? You do it anyway begin to walk away ten thousand dollars richer and there is no fuss, no alarm, nobody yelling. This very well could be the best day of your life!

Now to recap, you are fresh off a crazy night with a girl you whose mom you hooked up with just three nights earlier, you found ten grand on the ground and you’re heading to eat what could only be described as the best barbecue you’ve ever smelled.

BBBQ: the extra B is for BYOBB

BBBQ: the extra B is for BYOBB

As you get downtown there is a crowd of maybe 10 or 15 people standing near a large metal table that looks to have even more stacks of cash on it. People are taking stacks of it and filing their pockets and bags with it and just walking off. You can’t believe what is going on. You look down at your phone and see if you can get in touch with your friend to find out what the deal is. No signal

When you can’t get him on the phone you decide to walk over to the table and see what the deal with the free money is and what alternate universe did you wake up in? People are taking too much they are grabbing whole handfuls, acting greedy because it too easy. You overhear one douche say that this is way more than he gets in a normal paycheck.

You decide that if nothing is going to happen you might as well pay off your truck and then some. As you grab the first stack off of the table the hair on the back of your neck stands up. It seems like something is wrong. I can still smell the barbecue but where is it? Also, it is not as strong now that the wind has picked up. Now it smells like something else. You smell B.O. …maybe or farts …something not right. You still feel weird but you get a whiff of barbecue and see the money and cannot control the urge and decide to take a few more stacks and fill your pockets and go find your friends and the source of that intoxicating barbecue smell. As you turn one of the guys standing next to you says that his kid would like a chance to get some money too. You take one step back to fix your pockets your phone rings. “It’s ya boy, you answer it,”Sup bro? You downtown by the barbeq-“


You were shot right behind the shoulder and you take three steps and collapse. All of the other people scatter and run off and hide in the cars parked nearby. Your breathing gets slower and slower as you fade off wondering what the hell just happened. Just then you feel some massive hands grab you by the side of the head and snap your neck, putting you out of your misery.

What happened in this story is the douchebag population got too big and it was the first day of the hunting season and someone bagged themselves a huge douche.

You see that is how I feel about deer hunting. Is this a PETA thing; do I love deer and think that they are majestic and beautiful? Not even a little bit. Do I even have a problem with hunting deer? No, I do not. My entire issue is with people calling it a sport. It’s like when people call poker a sport. Manly men sitting for hours in a tree stand covered in deer attracting urine smell with mounds of corn piled up in an open field with a rifle that shoots bullets that travel 2,390 feet per second and they call themselves sportsmen.

Now you can watch sports while you "compete" in a sport

Now you can watch sports while you “compete” in a sport

Some sport. I know guys that are so into the sport of it that if the deer even get a first down they will reset the entire game (Big-un). If deer hunting is going to be considered a sport I just think that we should either raise them like cattle or make it fairer. Don’t get me wrong, deer suck; but they are delicious and would have a population explosion if we stopped… so don’t stop killing them, just stop calling yourself a sportsman. Again, even though it is on ESPN; poker, NASCAR and Horse Racing are not a sports…hunting deer the way these “sportsmen” do it isn’t either.

Nice Rack

Nice Rack

I’ll leave you with a clip from a great movie where Tom Hanks discusses what constitutes a sport:

Tom Hanks Discusses The Definition Of Sports

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2 Responses to “Deer Season! Douche Season!”

  1. Anon August 16, 2013 at 4:52 am #

    I understand the main point… deer hunting is not a sport, no, you’ve got that right. But we’re talking about different meanings of the word “sport.” Also, you should work on your grammar and spelling before you post things on a website that criticizes dumb people. Seriously, I barely made it through this because of all the blatant spelling and grammatical errors.

    Also, why are you trying to hold the “Jersey Shore” douches in a good light, talking about how they get laid all the time? Is that really a “dumb” thing? Most of the time, in the media anyways, smart men are depicted as being the lady’s men. Tony Stark (Iron Man), James Bond, The Most Interesting Man in the World, etc. A lot of the over-puffed, steroid ridden, fake-tanned douche bags are cock-blocking the men who deserve to get some ass, and then going home lonely themselves. Not the other way around.

  2. Jeff August 17, 2013 at 7:50 am #

    Firstly man, thanks for reading. Secondly, I am from the state considered the “Sportsman Paradise” so I know it’s a different meaning for the word ‘sport’. Remember they call dressage and rhythmic gymnastics ‘sport’. I guess I was just trying to make the deer hunters feel like they were dating Mona Lisa Vito for just a few minutes. Lastly, the ‘Jersey Shore’ douche gets killed in the end of my story, and I picked every possible thing that I could think of that I hate about those douches and mentioned it. I agree that they don’t deserve the women they are with most of the time, but hey, women tend to gravitate toward douche at a certain age.
    Also you seem to have some pent up rage. We like that and are always looking for new writers here. If you have something you want to post drop us a line at

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