THE LUXURY OF TRANSMISSION

 Last night at the Dale found all the usual characters rubbing elbows and swapping stories. I seem to have seamlessly returned to my good old destructive habits (drink and drugs) as soon as the muzzleloader break kicked in. I’d spent the last two months leading the straight and narrow, hardly drinking, smoking only after dark, crashing around 9pm and rising at 5:30 am, seven days a week. Now the deer get a rest and I can’t wait (or stop myself) from tearing it up for the holidays. Once again, my wants and needs are simple: eat, drink, smoke, a little Shewho sex, and try to be as fucking merry as I can manage during this boozy season of joy.

 

The house is clean. The deer have been butchered and the venison is marinating in anticipation of tomorrow’s solstice feast. A big part of hunting for me is the opportunity to share my bounty with the congregation. I pride myself in being able to kill a deer, drag it out of the woods, butcher it properly, and cook up a helluva back strap and steak. I learned the hunting from my father, the butchering from my grandfather and the cooking I picked up on my own. Here’s the secret – marinate meat in soy sauce, ginger root, brown sugar, jalapeno pepper, and salt. Sear in a hot skillet with just a little olive oil. Serve bloody rare with a mushroom and onion sauté. That’s it. You can’t go wrong. It will melt in your mouth. Do you copy?

 

Oh wait. You can’t respond. Too bad. The way HWS was set up in 2007 (with no “like,” “follow,” or “comment” mechanism) has served me well over these many years. Unlike Instagram (with it’s nefarious “like” button) where I’m just as susceptible as any 13-year-old girl to the lack of attention paid, the blog lets me spew with no engagement (positive or negative). Also, I can post nipples, AND vagina with no adverse consequences. Although recently blogspot has put warnings on some of my posts, they don’t knock me off the platform with some arbitrary punishment, like Insta and fb does. They leave me alone.

 

As we were bellied up to the bar last night, I was informed that both Sara Bs regularly read HWS. I love these two fierce women and am honored they care enough to chk. in on me. Here’s the thing, other that Milawyer and my four siblings (yes I have a sister also), I have no idea who or how many readers I have. I like it that way. I assume I have a few less readers than The NYTimes and a few more than blood family. In this iPhone drenched, up yer ass, social media, Tik-Fucking-Tok landscape, a platform that denies participation by consumers turns out to be a unique luxury for the content provider. It’s not that I don’t care what ya’ll think, it’s just that I have no interest in hearing about it here. I have a landline which I assume is still published in the phone book. Call me up and bitch or compliment. It may take a few tries, as I don’t have voice mail. Email is best- address readily available online. I chk. it every day. Plus, you can always drop by for a visit. I’m home during daylight until the 26^th. Then I’m back in the woods. I hope you liked this blog. Just kidding. I really don’t give a shit. Please keep reading. Love you all. xx