Of course, BPS is filled with dead animals; it's kinda their schtick. But this, this is a marvel. A truly amazing piece. The very existence of this thing means that someone, somewhere, said to himself "Imma mount this here deer so's to make him hold the instrument of his destruction." Just look at it, y'all. Look at it. It's cradling guns, perhaps the very one that killed it, and it's cradling those guns like I cradle my son. That's some deep stuff there, yo'.
Other things I learned at the Bass Pro Shops today:
- Walking up stairs, my spine has taken over the Rice Krispies noises duty from my knees. I didn't even know my back could make that sound.
- One of the formerly-empty display cases has now been filled up again with targets and blue guns and similar things. Looks like most of the rest of the cases have had stuff rearranged so the gaps aren't as obvious.
- In addition to selling guns for the rough equivalent of two months' rent, Kimber sells a fancy-schmancy pepper spray 'pistol' for $25 more than the next-most-expensive version. TBeck assures me there's actually a very good reason for this, but dang.
- Speaking of pepper spray, the Zombiepocalypse marketing has made its way to that product too. I'm thinking they may be stretching things a bit there. Pretty sure zombies respond to head shots, not capsaicin.
- I need to teach my kids the difference between wolves and coyotes. While I was still feeding Doug, this family walked in with three or four little boys (who all, for some odd reason, had what looked like a whole bottle of gel divided among their hair in something not quite mini-pompadours, but close). One of them excitedly pointed out a dead animal scene of a coyote bristling at a rattlesnake, only he called the coyote a wolf. My first thought was "Damn city slickers." And then I remembered I am a city girl through-and-through, and my daughters are probably equally clueless. This must be remedied ASAP.
- Speaking of dudes and hair. Totally saw a guy with blond streaks in his hair and lots of product and spikes. What the fuck, dude? He wasn't gay; my gaydar is tip-top. Dude was metrosexual. I really thought we'd grown out of that, as a country. I don't want to know the kind of woman who is attracted to that kind of man.
- Also saw two different women rocking red suede spiked heels--one pair of pumps, one pair of knee boots. God knows I love me some fuck me now shoes, but at Bass Pro Shops? It doesn't quite fit the aesthetic, and kinda screams "high maintenance." Can't imagine either of those ladies fly fishing. But I could be wrong.
First up, the parking lot at Bass Pro Shops:
By contrast, the parking lot at Dick's Sporting Goods:
But here's where the real story is told. I took this photo of people going into BPS:
Of course, I had to take a similar picture of Dick's:
Probably not a great business decision.
Oh, and this is apropos of none of the rest of this post, but I figured y'all might benefit from another Doug picture. He's actually a happy little fellow. (I say little. He weighed 9lb 4oz at birth and is now 12lb 8oz at 2 months, 3 days.) He does not, however, like smiling for the camera.