The Lion Poacher

In a darkend auditorium you sit. You have been sitting there for days wondering where the hell Blake is. What is he doing? Why hasn’t he posted? A loud thud from the stage breaks your thoughts.

“Hit the lights!” I yell from a top my soap box. Just the one, I don’t have the patience to fuck around piling boxes tonight.

Walter Palmer poached a lion! While on a trophy hunting trip to Zimbabwe. His hunting group lured a protected lion away from its reserve and killed it, beheaded it, and skinned it. According to the piece of shit, he didn’t realize it was a collared and protected animal. So at no time, did the doctor see a collar that signified that Cecil was a protected cat. A cat with cubs.

Even after the cat had been shot dead and he was in the process of decapitating and skinning it did he realize there was a collar or any other markings. Perhaps, someone in the group removed the collar first as the animal was lured away and then killed. Sounds more like a cheat code than actual hunting. Sounds like he didn’t realize he was right outside a reserve. Sounds like bullshit!

Apparently the good Dr. Palmer already has one other poaching offense on his record. He also had $55,000 burning a hole in his pocket. For his sake, he should probably have more where that came from as he could face extradition to face poaching charges. Good riddance I say. May your superior self-esteem and manliness keep you safe in a Zimbabwean prison.

I usually try to keep it classy and not jump in on the internet vigilantism. I try to practice keeping a level head and seeing things from both sides. Things are different tonight. While I haven’t written a yelp review for his practice or anything else. I sure don’t mind other people doing it. In fact, Davie Jones couldn’t release the Kraken of the internet enough, as far as I am concerned.

Trophy hunting is disgusting and completely reprehensible. I don’t see any point in it. And the predators that partake in the practice are no better than, although not necessarily equal to, many other morally reprehensible predators in our society. You know what I mean.

“Turn the lights back off, please. I feel better now. The next one will be lighter.”

In the darkened auditorium, you hear the sound of my feet walking off stage.

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