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Turkey Farms Should Invite Children Onto Killing Floors

Screenshot from WVIT story.

Screenshot from WVIT story.

The Connecticut NBC affiliate, WVIT, aired a story late last week about a death factory called Gozzi’s Turkey Farm, which for decades has been breeding animals for slaughter. What sets this killing floor apart from others is that its operator encourages children to see the birds not as victims but as fantastic curiosities.

In his voice-over for the story, NBC Connecticut News reporter Jason Hawkins explains that “Bill Gozzi’s turkey farm is a fall attraction. … Gozzi’s breeds and sells over 15,000 turkeys a year, but, every Thanksgiving, they do something a little different.”

Off camera, Bill Gozzi says, “We put a bunch of colored turkeys out in a pen for kids,” while video of children gawking at bright orange, blue, green, and yellow birds plays on screen.

Hawkins interviews one youngster who says one of the turkeys “bit” him.

“I think it knows you want to eat it,” Hawkins tells the kid, later asking a group of soon-to-be-slaughtered turkeys, “You guys excited for Thanksgiving?” The manipulated video seems to show one turkey shaking his or her head “no.”

Obviously, what Bill Gozzi is selling at his Guilford, Connecticut, death factory is the American tradition of selfish avoidance and the promise of more suffering and death. For their part, Hawkins and the NBC Connecticut News team are simply selling out as complicit partners in the perpetuation of that sinister tradition — a tradition that might someday cease to be observed if children are invited onto the killing floor. Those children just might grow up to view Gozzi as the vile monster that he is. And they might demand that their local news outlets spend less time celebrating the holocaust and more time reporting on the countless atrocities that are happening around us every day.

Hunter Mowed Down in Inspiring Accident

Photo by Rastrojo

Photo by Rastrojo

I was screaming into a pillow when the red phone rang. It was my good friend Monty Gelstein, calling from what sounded like the inside of a lawn mower.

“What is that goddamned racket?” I shouted, tortured enough by the noise in my head.

“It’s my new combine,” Monty explained. “I’m taking it for a spin.”

“Combine?” I asked. “What the fuck is a combine?”

“Most people use it for harvesting grain,” he said.

“But you’re using it for …” I interrupted, eager for him to get to the point.

“I’m going to use it to accidentally mow down hunters,” Monty told me, matter-of-factly. “Surely you read about the Illinois bow hunter who was mowed down by one of these machines earlier this month.”

The news, which I hadn’t read, was good enough to brighten my mood.

“He was walking along a roadside wearing camouflage,” Monty said. “It was after sundown, so, apparently, the combine operator didn’t see him. And no charges have been filed — because it was an accident.”

I knew where he was going with this, and, frankly, it was temporarily improving my outlook on life in this terrible world.

“What typically happens when one hunter is accidentally shot by another?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I answered. “Usually, no one faces prosecution.”

“Don’t you see?” he demanded. “As long as a hunter is wearing camouflage, his death can always be ruled an accident. We can always say, ‘Honestly, your honor, I never saw the bastard.'”

We?” I asked.

“Oh come on, Brensilver,” he snapped. “You’re never any fun.”

“I’ll leave the harvesting to you,” I said. “Just make sure you put a dashboard camera on your new combine.”

Again, U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance Claims Hunters are Victims

Photo by Patrick Doll

Photo by Patrick Doll

One cannot take pleasure in killing and at the same time bitch about being bullied. But we’ve come to expect that kind of pants-soiling whining from the brain-dead thugs at the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance.

Earlier this month, that wretched gang of twisted monsters rushed to the defense of a dim-witted terrorist named Jeff Thomason, who can’t understand why anyone would react adversely to news that he savagely murdered a mako shark.

As they are wont to do, U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance president and CEO Nick Pinizzotto and his goose-stepping henchmen published a petulant complaint titled “Sportsman Harassed by Anti-Hunters After Legal Mako Shark Hunt,” which presents Thomason and his bloodlust-full ilk as victims and animal-rights advocates as ill-informed “extremists” (Pinizzotto’s word).

In their word-tantrum, the assholes at the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance defend Thomason’s legal right to kill mako sharks and feign alarm that animal-rights advocates would take to social media to wish the bastard ill.

Sonke Mastrup, the California Fish and Game Commission’s executive director, was quoted in the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance’s word-tantrum as saying, “Bullying people is never appropriate.” This from the head of a group that serves as a state-sanctioned death panel. Mastrup’s inclusion of the word “people” betrays the institutionalized arrogance that keeps other species under constant threat.

One cannot facilitate and regulate killing and at the same time profess to be anti-bullying. Assigning oneself the role of victim — while an actual victim hangs from a hunter’s scale — is the lamest and most pathetic trick in the PR playbook.

Obviously, the self-righteous fiends at the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance are full of shit. They and their despicable constituents are the ones with the deadly weapons and the psychopathic desire to use them.

Slaughtered Deer on Display in Syracuse “Art” Exhibit

Photo by Greg Thompson/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

Photo by Greg Thompson/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

It’s common for art galleries to receive a fresh coat of paint between one exhibit coming down and another being installed. Come October 20, the Syracuse University Art Galleries are going to need a hazmat-suit-requiring floor-to-ceiling deep cleaning to remove any and all traces of the Neanderthals who might have visited the place to see a repulsive and inanely titled show called Deer Dear. Drool will need to be removed from gallery walls and traces of human flesh will need to be peeled off floors on which visitors’ knuckles dragged.

Deer Dear is a collection of deer skins used as canvases and video-projection screens. The “artist” behind Deer Dear is a troglodytic mouth-breather named Tammy Renée Brackett, who chairs the digital media and animation department at the State University of New York’s Alfred State College. A description of Deer Dear on the Syracuse University Art Galleries website reads, in part: “Brackett’s recent work combines the digital and natural world to explore humans’ relationship with animals. … The exhibition focuses on the White Tailed Deer, posing questions about population control, loss of habitat, and mortality.”

Better — and less-insultingly — said, the “exhibit” celebrates mankind’s breathtaking arrogance. “Population control” — like “wildlife management” — is a euphemism for “sanctioned slaughter.” Deer Dear doesn’t pose “questions about population control, loss of habitat, and mortality.” Rather, it depicts the bloodlust and brutality that accompany the monstrous notion that man is entitled to hold dominion over other species.

If the “exhibit” raises any question, it is: What kind of rational and compassionate person would promote or be drawn to the work of terrorists?

The victims whose body parts are exploited in Deer Dear were cut down by motor vehicles and by hunters, including Brackett herself. According to an article published in The Syracuse Post-Standard, “One of her pieces of work, ‘Good Shot, Bad Shot,’ is simply two tanned hides given to her by hunter friends. … One shows a hole indicative of a heart shot in which the deer most likely died quickly. The other, a ‘gut shot’ further back on the hide, is indicative of a shot in which the deer died a longer, more painful death from the hunter’s bullet.”

Needless to say, the deer deserved better, in life and in death.

The mission of the Syracuse University Art Galleries “is to enhance the cultural environment of its community and surrounding area.”

Obviously, my idea of culture is quite different from that of David Lake Prince, the organization’s associate director and collections curator.

In a video on The Syracuse Post-Standard’s website, Prince says, “We hope that Tammy Brackett’s exhibition, Deer Dear, attracts a broad audience of both people that enjoy art and hunting.”

Clearly the evolved members of the Syracuse University community deserve better than to have their “cultural environment” enhanced by the public presentation of Brackett’s disgusting trophy collection.

How Can Hunter Live With Himself After Shooting, Killing Brother?

Photo by Leupold James/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

Photo by Leupold James/U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

I was working on a novella called Baptism by Piranha when the red phone rang. It was my good friend Monty Gelstein, calling to update me on his search for a way to partially light the darkness.

“There was a fatal hunting accident in northeastern Utah over the weekend, and all I can think about are the bastards who live to hunt again,” Monty said, sounding despondent.

“You’ve got to try to focus on the positive,” I told him. “Let’s use the hunting accident in Utah as an example. Tell me about that incident.”

“Two brothers set out to murder pronghorn and one ended up shooting the other in the head,” he explained. “I mean, I’m psyched that one of the brothers won’t be terrorizing wildlife anymore, but the other — the shooter — he’s still out there, armed and murderous, with nothing to stop him from exercising his savage bloodlust.”

“You’ve got to be able to recognize that thanks to this incident the drooling class is down a member,” I said. “And any way you measure that the result is positive.”

“It’s just so hard to celebrate when I know the slaughter continues,” he said.

“What would have made the incident in Utah worth celebrating?” I asked.

“I’d be a pretty satisfied dude had the two brothers gunned each other down,” Monty said, “or had the shooter decided he couldn’t live with what he’d done and offed himself right then and there.”

“There!” I shouted. “That’s it!”

“That’s what?” Monty asked, less-than enthusiastically.

Hope,” I told him, with as dramatic a delivery as I could muster.

“Where?” Monty asked, as if literally looking around.

“We can hope that the surviving brother catches a bullet himself, the next time he sets out to murder animals,” I reasoned.

“Do you know the odds of that happening?” he snapped.

I was pretty sure he had those numbers at his disposal. Still, undaunted, I pressed on.

“We can hope that the surviving brother takes his own life,” I said. “That’s certainly within the realm of possibility. And there’s nothing stopping you from encouraging him. That would be a super-constructive exercise, don’t you think?”

Several seconds of silence passed before Monty abruptly announced the end of our conversation.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice more spirited. “I’m going to call the surviving brother.”

I hung up the phone and created a Google Alert that will let me know when Monty has successfully convinced the surviving brother to take his own worthless life.

Hunter Falls to His Death; Oh, How I Wish He’d Been Pushed

Photo by Robert Shepherd

Photo by Robert Shepherd

If a hunter falls off the side of a mountain, does anybody hear him scream on the way down? It’s certainly a sound that would be music to my ears. And if I aim my ears to the west and listen very, very carefully, I can almost hear the echo of a vicious bastard named Theodore James Leach singing his final, terrified song.

According to an Associated Press report published in the Coloradoan, Leach recently took a well-deserved and fatal header off North Maroon Peak, in Colorado’s Maroon Bells, shortly after brutally murdering a mountain goat.

Needless to say, I’m glad Leach is dead. I only wish he’d fallen before he had a chance to kill. It would be much easier to celebrate his demise had the incident unfolded this way:

Theodore James Leach, a 42-year-old Neanderthal from Littleton, Colorado, was hunting mountain goats in the Maroon Bells on Sunday when one of his would-be caprine victims bravely stood his ground and pushed Leach off the side of the mountain. According to hikers who found him, the last thing the quickly expiring savage saw was an unrepentant mountain goat staring down at him with an expression that said, “I hope it hurt, motherfucker.”

Raise Money to Protect Animals, Let Wounded Hunters Die

Photo by Connormah

Photo by Connormah

Nothing would fill me with rage more than being stuck at an intersection where a bunch of mouth-breathing troglodytes were raising money to help the “victim” of a hunting accident. A few weeks ago, in Etowah County, Alabama, the community set out to do just that, in an effort to help pay a worthless thug’s medical bills.

On September 4, The Gadsden Times reported that a fundraising “roadblock” would be set up a few days later at a busy intersection, where friends of a terrorist named Cody Kuechle planned to solicit donations from trapped motorists.

A story published in The Gadsden Times on September 2 tells us that Kuechle was in “serious condition” at an area hospital after being shot the previous day by a goose-hunting buddy who lost his footing and accidentally discharged his lead-filled phallus. It’s too bad, obviously, that the shooter didn’t take himself out in the process of gunning down Kuechle. And it’s certainly too bad that the latter survived the incident.

Had he not, it dawns on me, his friends in Etowah County probably would have set up a fundraising roadblock to collect cash for the bastard’s funeral. Imagine getting stuck in that traffic and knowing what the holdup was. My road rage would have totally boiled over — unless, of course, I found a constructive way to deal with Etowah County’s drooling class.

And on that front I think there’s still time to give Kuechle and his water-headed pals something to think about. I think it’s worth looking into organizing a fundraising roadblock of our own. Ours, naturally, would be an effort to raise money to help protect other species from violent assholes like Kuechle. Maybe we’d get lucky and prevent an ambulance from delivering a wounded hunter to an emergency room in time to save his ugly life.

Monty Gelstein’s Haiku No. 8

Monty Gelstein's Haiku No. 8







A collection of Monty Gelstein’s haiku can be found here.

Hunter Suicide Encouragement Task Force Forming

Photo by Monty Gelstein

Photo by Monty Gelstein

The Daily Maul is looking for a few fully evolved psychological ninjas to join a Hunter Suicide Encouragement Task Force, a group that will be dedicated to convincing bloodlust-full members of the drooling class to take their own worthless lives.

Monty Gelstein, a wealthy philanthropist and tireless animal-rights advocate who will chair the HSETF, promised that “getting the savages among us to turn their lead-filled phalluses on themselves will be as rewarding as it is relatively easy.”

Center for Fewer Humans research director Marcus Aurelius Armitage, who’ll advise HSETF members on matters of science, has advocated the complete and total eradication of those afflicted with savage cretinism. In an “extra scientific” study published in November 2013, Armitage wrote: “While not every human afflicted with cretinism is a hunter, we can say with near-absolute certainty that every hunter is afflicted with cretinism.”

Upon its publication, The Daily Maul reported that “Armitage’s study suggests that a hitherto unidentified form of cretinism — whose nonviolent symptoms include uncontrollable drooling, excessive mouth-breathing, and graceless knuckle-dragging — generates a demonic and insatiable bloodthirst in those afflicted.”

Armitage was quoted in The Daily Maul report as saying, “It’s really in everybody’s interests to wash our hands of the problem — to absolutely vanquish the drooling class.”

Another symptom of savage cretinism, Armitage said more recently, is a pronounced “victim complex.”

The establishment of the HSETF comes in response to news that the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance has formed a “Hunter Advancement Task Force.” 

According to a July 23 news release posted on the USSA’s website, “sportsmen, conservation organizations and outdoor personalities met at the U.S. Sportsmen’s Alliance … headquarters yesterday to develop strategies to counter the recent increase in cyber-attacks on hunters.”

In a video produced by the USSA, that organization’s communications specialist — a barely intelligible hack named Kali Parmley — says, “With the growing world of social media at an all-time high, hunters have found themselves in the spotlight being labeled as animal serial killers, psychopaths, and a host of other false allegations from animal-rights activists from around the world who find it easy to attack hunters from behind their computer screens.”

The video also features an appearance by a repulsive lunatic named Jana Waller, who hosts a Sportsman Channel program called Skull Bound TV.

“To me,” Waller says, “the whole issue of harassment is so important because I’m afraid it’s going to deter people — women, kids — from standing tall and proud as hunters. And it’s so misdirected. It comes from such a point of people being uneducated about what hunting is all about. They think it’s all about killing, when, in my opinion, hunting is all about living.”

And Nick Pinizzotto, the USSA’s pitiful, shit-brained president and CEO, adds his voice to the video, saying, “We have to do a better job of framing who we are as a hunting community” and “we have to continue to portray ourselves as the logical people who want to manage wildlife through hunting.”

“The level of cognitive dissonance being put on display by Pinizzotto and his fellow barbarians is absolutely extraordinary,” Armitage said.

Gelstein was less diplomatic.

“The kind of demented narcissist who would actually say ‘hunting is all about living’ really needs to be convinced to shoot the monster she or he sees in the mirror,” Gelstein said, “because unfortunately, we’re living  in a society that accepts and protects the kind of subhuman that believes she or he can legitimately deny being an ‘animal serial killer’ or a ‘psychopath.'”

Speaking on behalf of animal-rights activists everywhere, Gelstein said, “The reason we ‘find it easy to attack hunters from behind (our) computer screens’ is because we’re not violent people. We express ourselves in such a way that no one actually gets hurt. If these scum-sucking Neanderthals want to insist that they’re the victims  as pathetic a suggestion as that is — they ought to go ahead and be the goddamned victims.”

Hunters are so dim-witted, he said, that even an intermediate-level psychological ninja should be able to convince a hunter to put the victim in the mirror out of his or her misery.

“Every hunter simply needs to be convinced to put on his or her ridiculous orange and camouflage costume, look at the reflection in the mirror — or at the reflection in the moonshine bottle — see the victim he or she professes to be, and blow that poor victim’s underdeveloped brain all over the walls of his or her cave.”

Those interested in serving on the Hunter Suicide Encouragement Task Force should introduce themselves on The Daily Maul’s Facebook page or Twitter feed.

Dear Bindi Irwin: Shut the F*@K Up

Photo by Michelle Moore

Photo by Michelle Moore

In a recent interview with Who magazine — an Australian version of People, and not, unfortunately, a periodical dedicated to the legendary British rock band — Bindi Irwin bitched about details of her father’s brutal death being made public. In March, on a Network Ten (Australia) TV show called Studio 10, a cameraman named Justin Lyons, who witnessed Steve Irwin being dispatched by a stingray, vividly described the so-called “Crocodile Hunter’s” final moments.

Lyons recounted telling Irwin, whom he was filming in waters near the Great Barrier Reef in September 2006, “You swim up from behind the animal and I’ll try to get a shot of it swimming away.”

Right off the bat, Lyons’ Studio 10 interview tells us two things: 1) Irwin had about as much sense as that moron from Jackass, and 2) there’s footage of Irwin being killed.

Note to Mr. Lyons: Send me that footage ASAP.

Lyons told Studio 10, “All of a sudden it propped on its front and started stabbing wildly with its tail. Hundreds of strikes in a few seconds,” and, “I panned with the camera as the stingray swam away … It wasn’t until I panned the camera back and Steve was standing in a huge pool of blood that I realised something was wrong.”

Well apparently, the public presentation of those tantalizing details pissed Bindi off.

Of Lyons’ Studio 10 interview, Bindi told Who, “It’s really hurtful, and for as long as I live I’ll never listen to it … It’s wrong as a family for us to hear about it.”

Right. Bindi and her family don’t want to hear about pain and suffering. They choose not to look at horrible scenes — which, not surprisingly, is exactly how they’re able to cozy up to the world’s most scrutinized marine prison.

Until Bindi stops being “an apologist for the wildlife-slave industry,” to borrow my own words, she ought to pipe down. She doesn’t have to read or listen to what Lyons has to say, nor does she have to watch footage of a stingray killing her father.

But just because she doesn’t want to watch the footage doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to.