Amateur Hour
Amateur Hour


I’ve spent the past few posts (Gear Giveaway aside) railing against celebrity activism and male chauvinist writers posing as hunters. So I thought I’d take a different tack and start this week off with a little comedy.

 I'm no joke-teller, but I'm still going to subject you to a yarn told by a Catholic priest at a parish in Pennsylvania's Pocono Mountains. I used to go to this church as a kid. This particular priest ended each mass with a joke featuring two recurring characters: Pat (the drunken Irishman) and Father Murphy (the straight man constantly saving Pat from himself). The one I remember best goes a little something like this. (Disclaimer: This isn't necessarily a good joke and it has nothing to do with hunting, it's just the only joke I know so go easy on me!):

 One day, there was huge fire in the center of town, threatening to consume blocks of life and property. The townspeople were frantic, scrambling for water and rescuing possessions from the buildings nearest the flames. At the sound of an approaching engine, the exhausted citizens looked up to see a truck -- driven by Pat with Father Murphy at his side -- racing out of the hills above the town and barreling fearlessly into the heart of the blaze. With Pat and Father Murphy fighting the flames from the other side, the fire was soon under control, and by day's end, the town was saved. Pat and Father Murphy were instant heroes, and the adoring townspeople wondered in hushed tones: "How could two men so bravely race into the fire without even a moment's hesitation?" When the mayor later held a ceremony to present Pat and Father Murphy with a cash reward and key to the town, he patted Pat on the back and asked: "Well gentlemen, what are you going to do with the money?" Pat shrugged and without thinking said, "Fix the brakes on that truck." 

 Lucky for you, reader Laura Benjamin recently sent this much more occasion-appropriate joke. Stop me if you've heard this one: 

 A hunter and his friend were sitting in a tall tower stand near the highway. Suddenly, a huge buck walked out over the corn they had spread nearby. Moving quickly, the hunter aimed his rifle at the unsuspecting deer. As he was about to squeeze the trigger, his friend alerted him to a funeral procession passing slowly down the highway. The hunter pulled away from the gun stock, set the rifle down, took off his hat, bowed his head, and closed his eyes in prayer as the procession passed by. His friend was stunned. "Wow, that was the most thoughtful and touching thing I've ever seen you do." The hunter shrugged. "Yeah, well, we were married for 35 years." 

 I'm sure plenty of you are better joke-tellers than me, with a much broader repertoire of field-related material. Have one you'd care to share? (Try to keep 'em clean and don't forget to tip your bartenders.) -Kimberly Hiss