Mmmmm ... dove!

Otherwise know as The Day Peace Died ...

 

Several years ago (like in the early '90s) I had to run back to my little hometown to take care of some inane thing over Labor Day weekend. Got to my brother's place Sunday afternoon after he and a bunch of his high school classmates had spent the day dove hunting.

That evening, they wrapped all the breasts in bacon and jalapenos and roasted them over an open fire. Good eatin'.

Then, after about the fourth beer, I realized I was smack in the middle of a bunch of rednecks with lots of alcohol and firearms. It just seemed like a recipe for disaster.

 

Mmmmm, indeed.

 

The lad speaks the truth.

 

pheasant tastes much like what i'm guessing my ass tastes like after an all-nighter in a house with no angel soft.

 

Then you must have one tasty ass.

 

thank you boxer. i've never really looked at it that way.

 

I'm pretty sure there's a "duck butter" joke to be made here, but it's early, and my brain's not working well enough to pull it off right now.

 

and i could come back with a "pull it off" joke of my own right now, as well. but i will leave well enough alone.

 

Ain't nothing like blasting away a few birds of peace

 

Different cultures, EE, different cultures. I wouldn't fit in yours, and you wouldn't fit in mine.
So be it.

 

They're not white, if that makes you feel better.