I always will remember, 'twas a year ago november, I went out to hunt some deer On a mornin' bright and clear. I went and shot the maximum the game laws would allow, Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow. Tom Lehrer, "The Hunting Song"

Ahh, the smells of autumn: crisp clean air, the first nip of frost, and gunpowder mixed with beer. What could be more typical of a Canadian November than grabbing a two-four of your favourite brew, your high-powered rifle, kerosene for lighting your fire, three buddies, and enough ammunition to start a small war. Then jamming yourselves into the all wheel drive to go bond with nature and see if you can't blow the head off a deer.

I was in no mood to trifle, I took down my trusty rifle And went out to stalk my prey. What a haul I made that day. I tied them to my fender, and I drove them home somehow, Two game wardens, seven hunters, and a cow. Ibid

Now before anyone can start going on about whiney liberals (don't call me an effing liberal!) let me tell you that I have nothing against hunting, as long as you are actually going to make use of what you kill. I'd prefer you only kill if you have a genuine need for the food to feed yourself and the family, but as long as you're going to make use of the meat, I'm not going to complain. With prices the way they are at supermarkets almost anybody can justify bagging at least one deer a season to offset their grocery bill these days.

In fact I think it's a lot more socially responsible to go out and kill your own food than buying that pre-packaged shit they sell in grocery stores. You're at least not passing the buck, so to speak, when it comes to killing the animal you're eating. You want free-range organic meat, go out and get it yourself, don't have somebody else do it for you. It might ease your liberal conscience to not know how it's done, but it's damn hypocritical.

For anyone who wants to bleat about the inhumanity of hunting your own meat and killing Bambi, may I direct your attention to the nearest slaughterhouse and what happens there. Talk about inhumane treatment of animals. Packed in pens too small for them to move; listening to the death screams of the animals ahead of them in line; smelling the blood and offal from the slaughtering: I'm sure that makes for a swell environment for your last days on earth.