Old timer in the deer camp

We knocked ol' Grandpa Perve outta his rocking chair the first go-round, but wouldn'tcha know it, that crazy sonuvabitch climbed back up on the porch, trousers soiled, limpin' like a beaver with blisters. He's back for more, but like a lot of old-timers at the deer camp, he jus' don't hunt any-mores. No sir. Old What's His Name is stuck beneath the flicker of the kerosene lamp doing dishes and peelin' potatoes. He just likes hanging out now and laughin' with the fellers, hearing the stories, the filthy jokes, drinking a few cold PBRs, but he's never liked the cold, this one, and the simple thought of walking to the stand in the black-ness of morning hurts, let alone actually sitting in the quiet. There's no dirty jokes out there and no slippers, either. Better stay in by the fire, be part of the camp, hang on for a little while longer.
Even though I still get out in the stand, I know how it feels. Hunting is a young-man's sport. At first you're all gung-ho, piss 'n vinegar, jumping to get after them deer like a wild wolf, and then you hit your prime, you hunt smarter, enjoy yourself more... Eventually, most of us realize the deer camp is more about having fun that working so hard. It's what you love but it's vacation, after-all.
It really ain't fair for Clay Matthews to compete with Grampa Perve any-more, but don't tell that old-timer. He's gonna keep driving his truck when he's blind and some-one is just gonna have to hide his keys on him one day. Better get that rifle from him, too, crazy ol feller. Meanwhile Clay Matthews is running around the woods howling at the moon, and there's a big full one on the 21st, just driving him bonkers with the blood-lust.
Don't let the cruelty of nature lull yous to sleep, dear readers. Even with the disillusioned southerner and the comedy coach rocking in their chairs beneath the pathetic-dome, this will be a close game. You put a division rival out on that green-painted concrete and make 'em listen to that terrible horn, turn on your boom-box of false excitement - it's tough. That team is - for the most part - still comprised of professional athletes. So don't kid your-selves.
That said, though, it's gonna thrill the bejeebers outta me and the fellers to watch their season crumble up at deer camp. And once we take care of the Vikings and (hopefully) put an end to that sad little experiment, then we can take care of our neighbors to the south, who at least have the decency to hunt outside rather than from a heated tree-house. Even though we lost down there, I'm not terribly concerned with those round-heads.
Well I hope you all enjoy the hunting season, and I hope you have as fine an eatin' spread as our camp is gonna have on Sunday for the big game. Be safe out there, too. Don't do nothing stupid, and don't work too hard. On that note let's mark it: Packers 24 - Vikings 20.
Until next time, then,