Man, there are those days I just want to get away from it all. Nature calls, and I want to commune. Get rid of the phone, the TV, the radio, sever the link to the real world. There’s something that makes my man blood boil about hunting my own food, building my own shelter and clubbing some woman over the head and dragging her back by her hair to my shack, making her mine. Then I remember, I can’t pound a nail, can’t shoot straight and I ain’t got the nerve to club a woman, then having to put up with her for whacking her.
Still, it’s a nice thought as I set around my firepit drinking my beer.