The Death of Cecil

Are you sure that it's Cecil? I thought it was Cedric, but I could be wrong. I have heard a couple of sketchy news reports about it, but I don't know the details. I was planning to look it up on Wiki this weekend, and will reserve my judgment until I have more information. It is my understanding that most African governments closely regulate the sport hunters who come into their country. They are not so successful regulating their local poachers, mostly because their enforcement agencies are understaffed and underfunded. I have heard that a few of them have contracted the job out to international sportsmen's associations because they are more financially able to do it. The sportsmen hire the locals, many of them former poachers themselves, as porters, guides, and game wardens, paying them more than they used to make poaching. Any surplus meat is donated to the local villagers, who are happy to receive it. I am certainly no expert on Africa, this is just what I have picked up from my hunting magazines. I do know that Africa is a big place and that it's not the same all over.

When I first moved up here, opening day was a big deal. Businesses would close, kids would skip school, and everybody went hunting. Restaurants would serve breakfast at 4:00 AM and then release their staff for a few hours of hunting before the noon rush. By daybreak you could fire a cannon down Main Street and not hurt anybody. Down Below they had "hunting widow" parties for the womenfolk, with discount drinks and male strippers. The men folks had their own parties at deer camp, no strippers, but plenty of booze and all night card games. At first light, those who were able might stumble out to their blinds for a few hours before returning to camp for lunch and a nap. Some of them didn't even bother to make an appearance in the woods. Legend has it that one guy arrived at camp, unpacked his gear, and found that he didn't have any spare socks. He had to hand wash the ones he was wearing and hang them up by the stove to dry each night far a week. When he got home he asked his wife why she hadn't packed any spare socks for him. She said that she certainly had, she took them out of the clothes dryer just before he left home and, since his suitcase had already been loaded in the car, she stuffed them into his gun case, figuring that he would surely find them there.

I suppose I might change some of my morals if someone gave me a logical reason to do so, but I don't consider the fact that everybody else is doing it to be a logical reason. Like my mother used to say, "If everybody else jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?" I don't think that my aversion to homosexuality is depriving anyone else of their rights. I voted against gay marriage, and I would vote against it again if it came up for another vote tomorrow, but voting is one of my rights. I am not preventing those guys from indulging their perverted lust, I'm just saying that it shouldn't be legitimized. Okay, I lost that one, but that doesn't mean I have to approve of what they do. Of course they will do it anyway, but not with my vote.