Look In My Eyes...

Sorry about my lack of postage for a while, but today has been my seventh day in a row that I've been at work. That's right. I got a job... kind of.

It's almost unofficial, but a friend of mine started working recently for a company that does IT support for some schools and small businesses, and his boss (who is a really good bloke) said it's ok for him to bring along someone for experience. And that someone is me. I get paid less than my friend, but seeing as all I really do so far is follow said friend around on the tasks he's given and only do some stuff, it's a good amount for me to be paid. So much so, that I feel a bit guilty due to the fact that I feel like I don't do too much... but I'll take it *grin*.

It's not a job I'd do for long, and the hours are uneven. I can essentially turn up whenever I like, but I wouldn't be very confident going out on my own and doing stuff. For the moment I only really do stuff when I'm with my friend. And, as it goes with out-in-the-field-IT-work, there is a significant amount of down time; time when there is essentially nothing to do and you just sit around, like when software is being installed and even periods when literally there is nothing to do at some sites. By yourself, watching paint dry would become an epic adventure, but because it's with my friend, it's pretty cool. We just muck around and talk about random stuff. Good times. But like I said, it's not a job I'd do for too long, and I'm only really doing it because I want to use the boss-man as a referee on my resume'.

And the whole '7 days of work in a row'? The last 3 days (including today) have been at Target, my casual job. Turns out I hadn't been getting shifts because they'd changed my availability... fail. So hopefully I should be getting decent hours now. Yesterday I actually worked for 10 hours (9 really, if you don't count my lunch hour) and only after that shift did I realise how terrible my shoes are. I am still literally hobbling today because the soles of my feet are so sore. So after working today (only 3 and a half hours) I bought some new work shoes so that I won't become crippled at the age of 25.

Anyway, onto the real meat of my post, and something I really hate - and I mean hate, using that word as it's meant to be used;

Hunting.

That's right. I hate hunting. And by the transitive property, I'm not a huge fan of people who hunt and think they're somehow macho and strong.

Twat.

To me, hunting these days is repulsive and meaningless. It serves absolutely no purpose (like sports) unless it's performed on feral/out of control species or where it does actually serve a purpose of keeping a certain population in check. Otherwise, I am completely against it. There's even people on my Facebook who post pictures of themselves, posing like the dickhead above, with big idiotic grins on their faces, thinking they've somehow done something heroic and worthy of a Kodak moment. Well f*ck you, you've done nothing of the sort. Now I don't normally swear in my posts, but put the kiddies to bed folks, 'cos this time there's probably going to be some cussing. And rampant sexual innuendos. But maybe not the latter. We'll save that for a later time.

There is simply no way that hunting can be considered macho these days. All it is is some mcguffin plugging an unwary animal between the eyes from 300 feet away with a high-powered rifle. A 12 year old could do that. There is little to no skill involved. All they're doing is pulling a trigger from the safety of hundreds of metres away, covered in sticks, grass and deer urine. In no way is a photo of them posing heroically justified. To me, it just shows how much of a dick you really are, posing there like a big man with your gun over a dead animal, when you've done shit-all but killed an animal that meant you absolutely no harm. F*ck you and people like you.

He had it coming...

I simply have no respect whatsoever for people who think killing an animal with a gun is somehow skilful and masterful. Wake up, git. There's no skill involved whatsoever.

"But hey man," says a 40 year old hunter with a grizzled, hunter beard and who smells of a disturbing mixture of bear piss and moose faeces; "you have to accommodate for windspeed, bullet dip and your own breathing" *spits tobacco*.

Yeah? Well give the same gun to a prepubescent teenager with rampant acne and he could do exactly the same thing. Hell, give the gun to an animal with opposable thumbs, and hopefully he'll plug you right through your temporal lobe and do us all a favour. You're just shooting a defenceless animal. An animal that’s done nothing to you, and certainly done nothing to deserve being shot dead by some coward with a bolt-action rifle. It's even worse when a kill shot isn't made; then the poor animal is in massive amounts of pain because the dickhead can't aim a rifle and now it has to be put out of its misery. But not before it's put in a photo so that the moment can be cherished by some overcompensating twat. Now that's not to say that I would respect someone who would instead run at the animal and try and punch it to death or take it down with his bare hands, but by God he's certainly got more balls than the gun-wielding urine-smellers.

So that's that. Rant pretty much over. But just to reiterate, I have absolutely no respect for 'hunters' (such a loose term these days - what they do isn't hunting), and every hunting mishap, to me, is a riot. I wish they'd happen more often. Now obviously these are just my views, and as I said before, there are times when sometimes hunting needs to be done, and in those rare cases its fine because it serves an actual purpose. But to all those 'recreational hunters' out there; it's only a matter of time before evolution makes it so that deers are born with shoulder-mounted machine guns, and they start getting their own back. I'm backing them.


The Kill
30 Seconds to Mars
A Beautiful Lie, 2005