BY TED NUGENT
I first encountered the culture-war freaks way back in the 1960s on rock-n-roll radio. During interviews about my frightening Amboy Dukes Motor City Madhouse R&B & R&R fun music, the DJs would feign shock and dismay when I articulated the source of my inspiration and high energy animal breeding soundtrack to my soul cleansing, magical time in nature as a bow hunter. After all, there is no more demanding scenario than stalking within arrow-range of high-strung whitetail deer designed by God to evade sharp-stick bearing BBQ addicts such as I.
I am certain Chuck Berry and Bo Diddly had that truism cataloged solidly in their ancestral mental library as their ingenious sonic bombast erupted.
Of course, 99% of the interviewers in those days were stoned out of their minds on various self-inflicted brain-altering chemical warfare trends of the “drop out, fade away” hippie era of disconnect and cowardly abandonment of individual responsibility. The Bambi cartoon syndrome made perfect sense to these fantasy driven dolts, and to witness them try to rationalize their big animal rights-lie made for better comedy than the eventual catching fire of Richard Pryor’s afro.
Then we sat down to some sushi and ribs, as in dead sushi and ribs.
I think everybody hanging around the Nuge Spirit campfire can agree on another hunting lifestyle truism: deer hunters do not live by deer hunting alone! Every deer hunter I know lives a wonderful hunting lifestyle; we manipulate our schedules, responsibilities, and lives, every way we possibly can, to get out there as much as humanly possible—to hunt, fish, and trap every species we possibly can—as often as we possibly can.
Not skipping a beat since the wrap up of what can only be described as the best deer hunting season of my life, for 2014/2015, I charged full speed ahead into hog whacking, varmint slamming, and exotic back-strap-ambushing-heaven fulltime.
Tribe Nuge is surrounded by firearms. We own hundreds and hundreds of rifles, handguns, shotguns and even a couple of real honest to God machineguns. Our ammo supply is nothing short of stunning, and we shoot all the time. The aim small, miss small discipline serves us very well, thank you.
We also own many hammers, electric drills, numerous chainsaws, a couple of blowtorches, some really large trucks, a blowgun, three slingshots, some air rifles, coping saws and hacksaws, hatchets, axes, splitting mauls, throwing knives and butcher knives, a spear, a hydraulic log splitter, a couple of power trimmers, a huge tractor with various menacing accessories, a tomahawk, a bulldozer, backhoe, a jackhammer and a big ass woodchipper.
And of course we mustn’t forget the most dangerous weapons of all; my stunning arsenal of very loud guitars and enough walls of ridiculously loud amplifiers that could, if used improperly, reverse the earth’s axis.