Fucking People Make It Complicated

Posted by Scorpion Sting on November 5, 2015

The first question I fucking have is why do fucking people make it complicated? It’s easy to not fuck up the food you cook, it’s easy as hell if you just pay fucking attention. Y’all know I spend a great deal of time reading other people’s blogs. Y’all know I usually don’t fucking comment because people have said I drop too many fucking f-bombs. Probably some truth in there some where I’m sure. I visit a few handfuls of what I will call cooking lifestyle blogs, they range from gourmet to trashcan grilling and most things in between. I noticed a fucking trend I really don’t fucking like, across the board, but I saved my bitching and moaning for my own fucking blog because, well, that’s how I fucking am. If y’all have taken the time to read my last post you’ll see I demonstrated the right way to pan sear a fucking steak, but it goes deeper than that, much much deeper. I had read a few posts about doing a fucking gourmet pan seared steak. I must ask, what in the fuck are you people trying to do to me? Putting all this bullshit on your meat and you’ll never fucking taste the meat, just your bullshit. So, I got to thinking, eventhough I can be considered nothing more than an average cook who learned to cook by standing next to real humans, I still know that one needs practice. Food is judged by it’s fucking taste morons, even if it looks like a pile of shit, if it tastes good I’m going to eat it. But it seems like everyone is in some kind of fucking cooking competition, got to Tweet that shit, got to Pin that shit, and even Share that shit. Looks can be very deceiving, anyone can polish a turd for a fucking picture, but will you eat it?

Okay, I’ll agree there are many fantastic cooks out in the world, and your food is making people fat and happy. But, who are these motherfuckers who watch the cable food channels and surf the internet who all of a sudden are culinary experts? Y’all know who I’m talking about, we all have them in our families and lives, hell I’m probably pissing one of them off right now. With two big cooking holidays coming up fast we all know there are those people’s food we won’t fucking touch because it fucking sucks. Why? Because they can’t cook that’s why! Oh, but they try, right? Wrong! Copying something from Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook, or wherever the fuck else does NOT make you a fucking cook, really it doesn’t. But does this stop them from posting on their blogs? No. Does this stop them from inflicting their unimaginable culinary disasters on friends and family? No. If you can’t cook just own the shit out of that, you can never fake fucking steak, never.

So, what am I doing here? I’m trying to tug at your heart strings in hopes that one day soon we will be rid of the wannabe cooks. I pride myself self on the fact that I cook what I know how to cook, I grill in a way that food is edible, and I smoke meats in ways that will make you want to dry hump my leg with excitement. However, I’m a down home simple ingredients kind of cook. I do NOT bury the flavor of what I’m cooking in other bullshit, I’m simple in my methods. I have taught an ex-wife to cook, my wife to cook (in different ways, she’s a bad ass cook already), and all three of my kids to cook. Why? Because if we’re going to eat we might as well fucking enjoy the way it tastes. Right or wrong? But, my soon to be married 19 year old daughter has been exploring the cooking shows and scouring the internet for recipes to try. She can’t figure out why she doesn’t like the way the food tastes. My answer? You need to fucking practice, practice allot, make changes, own that shit until you can do it blindfolded, without the recipe card, and where it comes out delicious every single time. Me, I don’t have any recipes written down anywhere, but I do try to accurately share proportions when prompted, but I doubt it’s ever exact. An example, search my blog for details, I make what I call Diablo Scorpion Chili on a regular basis because my wife, her friends at work, and family can’t ever get enough of this high heat colon cleansing chili. It has been made the same way since I dreamed that shit up some 25 years ago to enter into a chili cook off. Not to brag, but best in heat, best in flavor, and best appearance tells me it might be good, don’t change a fucking thing.

But I do more, I even share with pictures here on occasion, people actually write to me thanking me because it all tasted as described. Why? Because I don’t do all the bullshit, basic is the best flavoring. Anyway, my question still remains, why do people try to “fake it” on the internet? People try their recipes I’m sure, as I have, and most times I’m not impressed. I’m no expert when it comes to cooking, but I don’t get complaints either. My fucking wish I have for people learning to cook or wanting to learn something new is to spend time with other humans, whether it is family or friends, and be shown in person how to make a recipe work. Let’s face it, if it looks pretty but tastes like shit then you have failed. My family knows I don’t mind eating the ugly mistakes if they taste great. Our daily food consumption should be eating simple meals, inexpensive meals, and meals we want to eat. I like to try new things too, but some science experiments are best left to the experts and that for fucking sure is not me. So the next time you get a wild hair up your ass, try making something new, posting it online, just make sure it fucking tastes awesome. If not, its pretty hard to fuck up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, just keep that in mind. I hope we all learned something today, if so there is hope for us humans, if not we’re all fucking doomed.

Being Politically Incorrect: Now Fuck Off

Posted by Scorpion Sting on October 10, 2014

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Where in the fuck do the politically correct morality police get off being my mother? Why in the fuck have they chose to subject me to hundreds of e-mails a week and hundreds of spam comments a week? Who the fuck do these people think they are? What in the fuck do they think they can change about my blog? When in the fuck did I become a fucking interest to the fucking politically correct morality police? F.Y.I., y’all will fucking find the morality police is only one of the many names used to describe the fucked up groups of people whose self-appointed job is to enforce standards of moral behavior and religious adherence among the general public, these bleeding pussies are here to protect us from the real world. Have these fucking freaks of nature been having a spell of moral panic? Is their moral panic over an issue deemed to be a fucking threat to, or shocking to, the sensibilities of “proper” society? How about y’all just have a very tall glass of shut the fuck up for a minute.

If you haven’t fingered it out yet, this is my politically incorrect declaration about the morality police fuctards who feel it is their god given right to bombard the Sting Of The Scorpion Blog with all of the bullshit that they disagree with that I say or I post here. So, let me start off with a big GO FUCK YOURSELF to get this kicked off. What does what I write about have to do with anything in the fucking lonely lives of the morality police? I know what I fucking post and I sleep fucking great at night. In some way I have touched these little bitches in a special way, like how a girl gets finger fucked for the very first time. I guess because they like the way I touch them that they need to bitch at me like my ex-wife who is, to date, at the very top of my “cunt list”, but these fuctards are a very close second. So I say the word, and many variations, FUCK, does that make me a bad person? I post pictures of women with tattoos and women packing heat because those are things I really fucking like. I regularly talk about how fucked up the VA is because I’m a disabled vet who is a part of that fucking broke system. Does the fact that I was a bartender at a full nude strip bar (and liked it) a problem because I write about it or because it is an industry that exemplifies gratuitous nudity in exchange for money? It is a historical fact for those followers of the bible that “Jesus Loves Strippers” but that is something that the morality police like to forget.

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Somewhere, somehow, the morality police opened their doors to the anti-meat-anti-hunting-geniuses because they keep trying to tell me hunting to provide meat for my table is wrong. Wrong? It’s wrong? I do not, I have not, and I will not ever condemn a meat free lifestyle if that is the choice you have made. I may not understand your decision and I might joke about your choices, but your choices are yours to make. I would like to think if you want to be left the fuck alone about not eating meat that you should close your fucking piehole about my choice to stalk the meat, kill the meat, smoke the meat, and then eat the meat with my family. Y’all really need to back off this one because it isn’t ever going to fucking change, ever. Never once, however, do these fucktards ever get real specific about what rubbed their pussies the wrong way. Perhaps that is the problem, perhaps it is because of their own experiences that they must warn me that I am on the highway to hell with what I write about. Well, you stupid fucks, I write about what is in my life, around me, or the fucking things I like or dislike. Some of those things are fucked up, some of those things are the fucktards who get so pissed off at me for talking about their beliefs and how they live their life.

I think if I was a bleeding cunt that maybe I would hold that against the rest of the world as well. Is it because you suffer that you want to make others suffer? I was told once by my dad when I was younger to never trust something that can bleed for a week and live. He also warned me of the hypnotic spell the women will put men under, he called this the power of the pussy. He tried to warn me that she with the pussy is who is in charge. It’s true, for the most part, that because you have a pussy you think that all must bow to you, begging your little twat for forgiveness because we were born with a dick. All of the haters I have all have referenced that they are female, not one male has ever emailed me or spammed my blog in anger because of my topics or language. Why do you little bitches think that is? Need a bandaid? Perhaps you are angry with me because I write about your fucked up ways and your fucked up thinking, perhaps when you whip out your grammar Nazi handbook you should show me the part where it says that The sting Of The Scorpion Blog is supposed to give a fuck about spelling or proper sentence fragmentation. Fuck you, I’m not 6. Speaking of which, no, no I don’t think I will ever write with the maturity my age states I should have. I think it is just plain time for you politically correct bleeding pussies to just turn the internet off, turn your computer off, unplug the smart car, and go for a walk. Get outside into the real world with real people. Do keep your hole closed because if you act out in public as you do on the internet you might just not like the reaction you get.

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Where do we go from here? It’s true, I don’t give a fuck about your feelings about what you may find at The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog. Why should I fucking give a shit and really fucking care? Come here if you want, don’t come if you don’t want, either way it doesn’t make a fuck to me because this blog doesn’t pay my fucking bills. In fact, it’s totally free. It’s free hosted, I don’t charge admission, I don’t ask for donations, and I don’t try to sell you stupid shit you don’t want. I do this shit for fun, I do what I do here for my personal entertainment, I write about the things I see or hear because it is fucking fun to do so. What’s even better that somewhere along the way I get to rub some of y’all pussiy fucktards the wrong way on a very regular basis. Except, nowadays I think we are past the heavy petting, we are past trying to shove three of my fingers thru your granny panties, we are past you not wanting to be touched “there”, no, I think we are to the point where I expose what has really been going on here, because not everyone gets to see you as I do. I know I told you that I wouldn’t tell everyone what a fucking little whore slut you really are. I know you wanted me to be discrete about your little secret of only letting all the guys ass fuck you so you can tell your future husband you truly are a vaginal virgin. Yes, your fucked up little secret is out now, boothefuckhoo. It is also pretty fucking obvious that you suck the cum out right out of that dick after they all pull it out of your ass because all you do is talk shit. So, shove a plug in your gaping asshole because you are dripping anal ooze all over my fucking blog.

Now, get the fuck out. Let the door hit you square in the ass. Don’t stop, don’t look back. All you will see is me bending over blowing you a big fat fucking kiss. I know y’all aren’t capable of listening, that fucking point gets proven time and time again. I get it, you fucking despise and hate me. I know y’all are too fucking stupid to listen. I know y’all will be back, y’all always fucking come back for some reason. Well, just remember I may not appreciate the fact that you suck in all of my fucking oxygen but since you always arrive with your panties pulled so deep into your bleeding cunts, I give y’all a break, because I like freaks, I even like you. So, polish up your badge bitches so you can continue to spread the your fucking legs and let out all of the things that are so wonderful about the fucking morality police. Until the next time we meet please feel free to fucking piss off.

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Reverse Psychology In Marketing

Posted by Scorpion Sting on September 26, 2014

Sometimes I Worry About People

Posted by Scorpion Sting on September 5, 2014

Smoked Wild Turkey For Thanksgiving 2013

Posted by Scorpion Sting on December 3, 2013

Y’all can consider this to be part two to Our Family Thanksgiving Tradition which was published on 25 November 2013. I provide the link only if y’all need to catch up, refresh, or both. Whichever y’all decide to do, just hurry up, we have allot to discuss. When I left off last time I mentioned that we dressed out our wild turkey and set it to soak in a magic recipe. But, before I give y’all those details so y’all might try it out some day for yourselves, y’all must make sure you have one very specific item, and that is a 5 gallon bucket with a tight sealing lid. I prefer to get mine from Home Depot because, to date, they have yet to ever, and I mean ever, fail me for having a leak proof tight lid. But, y’all make that call when I’m not looking. Also, for the meat haters who love to hate it when I write about meat I just want you to know, specifically you, yes, a wild turkey was harmed (killed) to complete this recipe. There, I said it, now get over yourselves and either turn tail and leave or read on. Now, wash the 5 gallon bucket and lid real well, scrub it good. When it is clean and dry place it on a chair and make sure it isn’t going to fall off of it. Place one dressed wild turkey in the bucket, neck up and tail down. Pour two 750ml bottles of Wild Turkey into the bucket with the turkey. Y’all can use the basic run of the mill Wild Turkey if you please, I had a case of Rare Breed leftover from a party when I worked at the club, so I used it, well, two bottles of it anyway.

Open two large cans of whole berry cranberry sauce and pour those in as well. Wash 4 good sized oranges and slice them into 1/4″ thick slices leaving the peels on. Take all of the slices and slice them in half then put them in the bucket. Wash and cut 1 each red, yellow, and green bell pepper. Put those in the bucket now. Wash and cut 4 jalapeno peppers and place those in the bucket. I also added 1/4 cub Tabasco Sauce, 1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce, 1 cup (packed) brown sugar, and 1/2 cup (finely chopped) mint leaves. Whatever space remains in the bucked fill with cool water until the liquid level is about 1 1/2″ from the top. Securely put the lid on and I mean make sure it’s on tight or you will have a mess to clean up. Carefully remove the handle from the bucket and set it aside for now. Lay the bucket on the floor on it’s side and roll it back and forth until you think everything has blended well. As tempting as it may be do not, under any circumstances, take that lid off until you are ready to smoke it. Now, I happen to have a refrigerator that I have taken the bottom shelf out of so my bucket fits just fine, you’ll have to see what works for you as it needs to sit this way for a few days. Mine sat like this for 96 hours (4 days).

After you get your smoker up to temperature it will be time for the turkey. I began my fire with red oak until the smoker would maintain about 500F, then I added some hickory and mesquite which had been soaking in a bigger bucket for a few days that was filled with water. When you are ready for the turkey just pry the lid off the bucket, reach in there barehanded, grab the turkey, and slap it on the smoker. Do not discard the remaining contents in the bucket, some of it will get smoked and some of it will be used in a bit. The remaining contents need to be strained so all of the liquid is removed. One can also “dip” everything out as well. Split the solids in to equal portions. Take one portion and put it in a blender or food processor and puree the snot out it. If it is really thick, add a little Coke. It should come out the consistency of ketchup. Set that mixture back in the fridge. The remaining portion can be placed on a cookie sheet, covered with something, and placed into the fridge. Those will be put on the smoker when there is only about 2 hours remaining. Now, do not open your smoker to look at the turkey because it is doing just fine without you looking at letting the heat and smoke out. Mine cooked for 12 hours. At the 6 hour mark I took the puree mixture and slathered it all over the turkey. Close the smoker. Discard all remaining puree.

Now that you have around 2 hours remaining of cook time, put that cookie sheet of peppers and orange slices on the smoker uncovered. They will be removed when you remove the turkey from the smoker. When the time is up, carefully remove your smoked turkey. Use “hot gloves” so you can grab the whole turkey and keep it together. Place the turkey on your selected platter, leave uncovered, and let it “rest” for around 1 hour. The peppers and oranges can be used as garnish, ground up and put into something, or just eaten, the choice is yours. We cut ours up and make a salsa concoction out of it. Your turkey will slice very easily and should have a deep smoke ring as well as a nice crust on the outside. Now has come the time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Making a turkey this way is time consuming and requires quite a bit of patience. Unfortunately there are no short cuts if you want it to come out right. I hope everyone enjoyed this information provided here today. Feel free to share it with family and friends. The more people smoking means the more opportunities there are to explore the best ways to come up with great creations.

Now, I feel inclined to add some things for the meat haters and the anti-alcohol people. First, this isn’t the only way to make a turkey, it is however, my personal way, one that works for me. First, a note about alcohol content in the meat. Since the meat is smoked at a temperature well over 172F (the boiling point of alcohol) for pretty close to 12 hours the remaining alcohol contained in the meat is way less than 5% if any at all. You will be, however, left with all the flavor that the Wild Turkey provides when used in smoking. Don’t believe me, just look it up and the answer will be revealed to you. As mentioned, yes, a turkey was killed, in fact it was killed by my 12 y/o son using a compound bow. You may not think so, but bow hunting has become a lost art with very few in the next generation being taught the skills and techniques. It’s a way of life in my family, we are not city folks, we live in the outskirts of society where being able to provide meat for the table is a gift not a curse. I’m sorry that so many people are against killing animals to eat because it makes it hard for people like myself and my family to enjoy a passion which we have all grown up loving. Unfortunately, you bastards attacked me when I published a post about the hunt, and unfortunately some of y’all will feel inclined to bitch at me and lecture me once again. Well, make sure what you say is worth a shit so I have something worthy of writing about, because if it’s not than you’ve just wasted both of our time. I’m not writing here to offend anybody, I’m just writing about a big aspect of my life, hunting and smoking meats. I hope everyone who celebrated Thanksgiving had a safe holiday and had an enjoyable time, I know we did. Until Next time, remember to eat it every day.

Not Even Traditions Are Safe From Hate

Posted by Scorpion Sting on November 27, 2013

Shortly, and I do mean shorty, like within 40 minutes shortly, after publishing Our Family Thanksgiving Tradition the meat eating hunter haters started their barrage of literal crap. I was a prepared because I know their are many people who A) don’t hunt, B) don’t eat meat, and C) think they are better than people who do eat meat and/or hunt or both. I have tried to understand the freakish nature of not hunting, I have explored that subject allot here and in real life as well. I have tried to understand why people who live a meat free life believe that everyone else is doing it wrong. I have tried to consider that when I write about hunting or meat in general that it will not appeal to everyone. I have come to a conclusion bitches, I don’t care what you do in your life, as pathetic as I might think your life is, it is still your life to live, not mine. I have been told by a few friends that by having a blog I open myself up to negative feedback, negative comments, and exposure to negative people. Well, they were right, eventhough I didn’t want to accept that some people are assholes just for the sole purpose of being an asshole. Now, I know my own personal intentions are not to offend people, but I do know that people will go out of their way to be offended because my lifestyle is not theirs. This fact used to concern me and I felt I needed to approach it all with soft gloves all around so everyone would be on an equal playing field. Well, fuck that, fuck it until it bleeds out because the gloves have come off, no more love taps, no more pulling back on my jabs, from this point forward I’m going straight for the juggler. If you don’t like what I say, what I do, how I write, or anything else, be prepared to be splattered all over my blog. Used to be, a big FUCK YOU would suffice. But you bitches are greedy and selfish, you want more, you need more, your over-indulgence has become overly-obvious, and now I plan on turning up the heat hoping you get burnt to a crisp.

One of the latest e-mailers (spammer tracks back to a virus infected website) stated that I needed to blog responsibly. The fucktard went on to explain the I have not been writing responsibly since I invite controversy with every word that is written here. I suppose the fucktard is correct, there are people who, in general, look to be offended. I often remind such fucktards that just because you are offended doesn’t make you right. It doesn’t mean you are wrong either, it just means that you let something I wrote offend you because you look for things to be offend by so you can justify your views. Well, here is my view. Since you made the choice to click the link, no matter where you saw it, and visit here. You might have seen it on WordPress, Blogcatalog, Pinterest, Facebook, or Google+. Those are the 5 places I place a link to updates on my blog. So, since I have to “belong” to each one of those websites and have an account I know I have “members”, “followers”, and “fans”. If you are getting my links then you too are a part of one or more of those five communities. If today, right now, all of my numbers dropped to dead zero I would not close my doors and blow away like dust in the wind. I would continue on, I would continue to do everything the exact same way. Why? Because I have no plans to cater to whiney sniveling crybaby bitches who have nothing better to do with their lives except be on the internet bitching about “content” on somebody’s blog. But, without you, without the grand ol’ fucktard, I would have just a little less to write about because I enjoy exploring the content of e-mails from ill-informed fucktards.

As I stated above, I had one meat-hater in particular try to explain to me that I was a terrible father for teaching my children barbaric traditions and skills. The fucktard goes on to explain that if we choose to eat meat why can’t we buy it at the store like normal people. So much to cover in those two small sentences. Readers here and people in my personal life know that we are hunters in my family. It has been these skills passed down generation after generation that keeps it alive in our family. My children have the choice, if they don’t want to hunt they do not have to. If they wish not to eat the meat provided by hunting, then they don’t have to. But, I doubt you will ever hear those words from my 3 children or my wife. We buy very little from the grocery store and annually we only buy about 5%-10% of our meat from the store. Why? 1) We don’t need to, 2) we have the means not to, 3) hunting to provide food for the year is the preferred way. One doesn’t get more “free-range” or “fresh” then putting an arrow in it yourself. I know the fucktards think all hunters are barbarians, and in a way, you are half right. We, as a family, are not special in any way, but we don’t trophy hunt, we don’t hunt just to kill something, we eat everything we kill. In my family we are bow hunters traditionally, a skill very few people still posses these days. But lets get back to the e-mail and how us killing our food is wrong. It’s wrong because this fucktards doesn’t agree with hunting or eating meat. I have never really understood, not that I’ve tried real hard, how a person doesn’t eat meat. I can see not hunting by people because most people are too big of a pussy to end the life of an animal. In fact, most people are too fucking lazy to hunt because their little life has consumed them in such a way that all other means besides the grocery stores seems to be a little out there in their opinion. Is that breeding? Is that the way they were raised? Is it because of where they live? Is it because they are comfortable in how ass backwards they live their life. Yes, I consider those who don’t hunt but bitch about hunting ass backwards. you wouldn’t be here if your ancestors were pussies and didn’t hunt to provide meat for their family, if they didn’t grow other food in the gardens, if they weren’t able to use an ax to chop wood, or if they didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger to defend the people and things they love and cherish. If they were all fucktards like we have today none of us would be here right now,

So what if we hunt. So what if we eat meat. So what that my children are well equipped to provide for themselves and others. So what that you are too fucking stupid to wipe the bullshit from your eyes so you can see that none of my life has diddlely dick to do with your life. The only way our paths cross is that you are too fucking stupid not to click the link to my blog. I challenge all the fucktards not to click my links, to un-friend me, to un-follow me, and to un-like me, and just move the fuck on. We will miss you, don’t get me wrong, but I want to help you onto the road to recovery. the first step is to admit you have a problem. Say it out-loud right now. I (state your full name) am a fucktard. I am addicted to being a fucktard. I can’t stop being a fucktard because (fill in the blank) and I am willing to take the first baby step right now to recovery so that one day when I reproduce I do not have fucktard offspring. Repeat that 100 times, look at yourself in the mirror while you repeat it over and over. After you have admitted you are a fucktard and you do have problems, then, and only then, can we move forward to help you shed the wool of being a contained sheeple. One day, one day you will want to hear the popping sound of your head coming out of your own ass. You will smell like shit but you will be happy once you stop looking thru your bullshit-o-vision glasses. Join us now, my brothers and sisters, let us take one another’s hand to have a moment in silent prayer. Whoops, that’s taking it a bit fucking far, their will be no fucking hand holding here. Now, do you feel better? No? Well, I can explain that to your simple simon little peanut fucked brain. That pain you feel in the back of your neck is your fucktard stupidity trying to get out, just let it out. When you see that little fucktard hit the floor then stomp on that fucker, smash it, grind it into the carpet, the wipe your shoes on your lilly white curtains and move the fuck on. Farewell fucktards, we are taking it all back. So, buckle up fucktards, hold on, shut, and get ready to be rode like the little bitches you are!

So, while all of you freaks are enjoying a nice Tofurkey Just known my family will be feasting on a smoked turkey provided my son’s dead accurate shot. I don’t knock the vegans and the vegetarians, they are doing their own thing, which is what we do because that is how we live. Be assured, y’all have your own traditions and we have ours. Yes, they might be different, and yes our opinions may differ about the differences, but in the end, we are all here sharing the bounties of this great planet we live on.

Our Family Thanksgiving Tradition

Posted by Scorpion Sting on November 25, 2013

For as long as I can remember I have went hunting on the weekend before Thanksgiving in an attempt to provide one, if not more, turkeys to prepare for our Thanksgiving feast. Even before I was hunting myself, I was tagging along, learning from my father, my grandfather, and my uncles. I was very excited when I turned 12 because it was finally my time to join in on the hunt with my family. As the years passed on the tradition was carried on with my own children, it started with my oldest daughter (23 y/o now), my middle daughter (17 y/o now), and most recently with my 12 y/o son. He has accompanied me for many years and after turning 12 this summer he knew it was going to be his turn to bring home a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. My family has a “secret” spot where we bow hunt for turkey. I was entrusted with the location years ago and 3 years ago the ownership of the land was transferred to me when my uncle passed away. This is one location friends never get to go, this is one place that is for family members only, and that tradition has been in place since the 30s and I don’t see it changing on my watch. For the last few years my son has been practicing his bow hunting skills and proved himself recently during bow hunting season when he had a very clean kill of a 10 point whitetail buck from 35 yards at ground level. A technically challenging shot for seasoned bow hunters. Lets just say he nailed it after a long road of education, patience, and dedication.

The first part of the hunt always starts a few weeks before the season actually opens up. We set up stalks to see where the turkey are running so we can calculate the best places for us to set up later. As I stated before, we have been bow hunting this land for many, many years, and for the most part the turkey pass through the same spots by the river year after year, so that is where we start, year after year. There is no need to bait or place decoys because they have a healthy population in this area and a relatively easy to find if you actually know where to look. Granted, there have been seasons so stricken with drought that there were no turkeys, but they always come back sooner or later. My son has mastered the art of the stalk, he has mastered the art of taking pictures in the wild, flagging trees, and mapping out locations with and without using a gps. He like to spend time in the woods without a weapon as well, he likes the connection, and he appreciates that mother nature is willing to provide a great bounty to see that our family eats all year long. He learned early on that in our family we do not buy meat from the store, we hunt, and we provide 95% of the meat that is eaten by our family.

This year, with my work schedule, the rest of my family went out opening weekend and have not returned because they hit their limits already. But, my son and my daughters have yet to go, until yesterday. The way it all ended up working out is my son and I drove out to our location late Saturday afternoon. With just enough daylight left we had time to set up our tent, get a campfire going, and get some food prepared. It was an anxious night for my son, I don’t think he slept at all because he was so excited, he has been waiting a very long time to be able to be the one who brings home the turkey we will eventually eat for Thanksgiving. With the exception that it was 40 degrees overnight, I slept just fine. At 4am I start feeling the jabs from my son, with a dad, dad, dad, dad. Is it time to get up? Is it time yet? Dad, dad, dad, dad. In the distance we could already hear the songs of the turkeys, it was time to get up, eat real quick, and disappear into the woods. At first light we were surprised to see many large turkeys feeding at the edge of the trees. It was very hard to move through the trees and brush because the leaf litter was very crunchy. As we came closer we started getting into the wet litter so we would arrive undetected. We were in place for about 30 minutes when my son was ready to take his first shot. Deep breath, release, breath again. He had made the perfect shot, the turkey dropped immediately. It was the perfect textbook shot from 30 yards. He quickly ran to his bird, assessed his breathing, there was none, so we knew he was dead. My son kneeled by the turkey, put his hand under his limp body, and offered a prayer. “Lord, thank you for this beautiful turkey as this turkey will feed my family and provide happiness for everyone. We thank you for providing this turkey, in your name we pray, amen”. It took me a moment, I was a bit choked up, as I wiped the tears from my eyes I realized my son understood his connection with the land, the animals, and mother nature. It was a beautiful moment to witness.

We packed up to head back to camp where we loaded the ATVs on the trailer, packed the tent, diluted the ashes of the fire, and put the turkey in the cooler in preparation for our travels home. Sunday night we dressed the 23lb turkey and set it to soak in a secret recipe of Wild Turkey, cranberry sauce, sliced oranges, a variety of mild peppers and seasoning, and just a pinch of my secret ingredient. This turkey will rest in this mixture in the refrigerator until late Wednesday night when he will be removed to join the others on my pit smoker for their 12 hour journey into smoked tenderness and bliss. Until then, this post will close.

Why So Serious All The Time?

Posted by Scorpion Sting on November 13, 2013

Recently I received an e-mail which asked “How can you continuously besmirch our Lord the savior Jesus Christ?” and that wasn’t all she asked. She asked allot of questions about why I hate everyone and everything. I don’t think I have been asked such specific questions so I wanted to share so I could explore out-loud what I am thinking. Usually I get asked “why?” allot or I get told, in simple terms, “to go to hell” for the most part. People are so judgemental of what others have to say. Granted, I do write about a few sensitive subjects on occasion, like race, adoption, smoking and cooking, sheeple, fucktards, religion, atheists, Christians and Christianity, Jesus and God, the Devil, strippers, alcohol and drinking, disabilities, and so forth, so pick something from “A” to “Z” and I have probably written about it.. I don’t expect everyone or anyone to share in on my personal opinion, if you do then you do and if you don’t then so be it, no hard feelings either way on my part. The only qualifications I have to have my opinions is the simple fact that I’m a human being sharing this planet with many others so I get to see allot from my point of view. So, back to why I’m writing this post.

“How can you continuously besmirch our Lord the savior Jesus Christ?” That’s an accusation and a question all rolled up in one. To be honest, besmirch was a new word to me, not one previously in my limited redneck vocabulary, so I had to look it up to see what it means. Here’s what I found. the definition of besmirch (biˈsmərCH): to damage the reputation of (someone or something) in the opinion of others or to make dirty; to soil. Now the term continuously: uninterrupted in time, sequence, substance, or extent. Now, I’ve looked back in review, over the general contents included in my blog. Guess what I found. Nothing, in my opinion, that would suggest a continuous or even a partial besmirching of anything, in fact there isn’t one single thing that has space on my blog that gets continuous commitment. Now, if you want to talk about what I have had to say about the freaks in The Westboro Baptist Church that’s a different story, I mean, come on, is it normal for a group of people claiming to be Christians doing God’s work to have their website address as “godhatesfags”. Perhaps I’m the only person on the planet that doesn’t think that’s normal. Now, if that is Christian bashing then some of y’all need to check to make sure you are praying to the right idol. So, I’m at a loss with the concerns that I’m besmirching Jesus Christ anywhere ever here on my blog or in person. Just because I don’t believe in God or Jesus doesn’t mean I hate them or that I wish to damage their reputation. When I talk about Christianity in general it is because the “news” is on the radio, the papers, on the internet somewhere, and occasionally the information comes home from church with my wife. Still doesn’t make me a Christian hater. A better description would be a person who chose not to be sucked into Christian conformity.

So, what am I trying to get at here? Not sure, but I hope to have that figured out before we are done here. All I know is that I am a human being just trying to live my life the best way I know how. That’s all I have to offer, no more, no less. I return now with fresh thoughts after an extended lunch hour. I suppose I understand the judgemental nature of the human animal, we tend to judge and assume what we don’t know simply because we have never learned to do it any other way. Meaning? People tend to pick one point and focus on it with such fury that they become blinded by everything else, like the truth for example. I’m comfortable with myself within my own skin, with my thoughts, my actions, my life, and what I write about right here. I don’t hate anyone that I know of, with the exception of my ex-wife who is the queen of evil cunts. Other than my personal thoughts about her, I have no problems with people. I do, however, reserve the right to have an opinion or three about daily observations that I witness on a day-to-day basis. It’s just that damn simple. If, for whatever reason, you or someone you know, falls into the subject, topic, or category I happen to be discussing and you feel it’s like I’m pouring salt into your open wound then that is all on you because all I am doing is talking, I didn’t make what I’m talking a part of your life, you did. So, there you have it. Did it answer all of your questions? I hope not because I wasn’t trying to answer anyone’s questions. Look, I’m just here doing my thing, just living my life, and trying not to be so serious all the time. You should try it sometimes, it’s nice.

The Annual Neighborhood Yard Sale

Posted by Scorpion Sting on November 11, 2013

No matter what I get involved in it always seems that I get asked to drag my smoker out and do what I do best. Some people cook, some people grill, but only the best can smoke. For those of y’all new to The Sting Of The Scorpion all I can do is recommend that your do a category search for “Smoking” and catch up. For everyone else this in just another day in my life. I’m not sure if I have ever posted pictures of the “other woman” (as it is called by my wife) so here she is. I have more smokers but this one is my oldest and my favorite. I built this trailer smoker back when I was in high school in the year 1985 based on a smaller project I had completed in shop class earlier that year. My smoker was built-in my parents garage using leftover metal from other projects. The trailer was bought at a yard sale and then modified and beefed up to make sure it was up to the task at hand. Since its conception and completion this smoker has been in my family ever since. When I joined the United States Air Force in 1988 I made sure this smoker went with me all over the planet, wherever I went, she went. Anyway, back to the present.

This past weekend was the annual neighborhood yard sale. Around 200 houses and businesses participate and it is generally a real big deal for this community. My baby sister happens to live here in this small country town southwest of Houston and they participate year after year because she invites all of the family and in-laws to participate. I always have two specific jobs, I smoke and I play cashier. This year was a little different because I actually brought some big things to sell like a leather living room set, dining room table with 8 chairs and three 2 foot leafs, two different Arachnid (brand) electronic dart boards that I had restored (circa 1982), an adult go-cart, washer & dryer, and an ass-load of clothes. When I pulled up at 5am with my trailer-load and smoker in tandem tow I was greeted by my parents, my sister, and some early morning “shoppers”. In the end, the only thing that made it to be sold in the yard sale was the clothes. I had made $8800.00 before it ever began. I unloaded the trailer onto 4 different pick-up trucks and I was basically done. I wasn’t expecting it to be that easy, but it was, and it made the rest of the day a breeze for me. Over all, selling 90% of the clothes brought in another $413.50 making my grand total for the day $9213.50 which wasn’t too shabby in my book. I got a whole lot more money like this than I would have seen using Craigslist. So, I had a great day. The rest of the clothes were given to my mother to donate to their local Goodwill.

I would like to discuss the people who came here to buy “other people’s junk” because the range at the yard sale was better than I could ever find at the mall. There are three types of people I saw that really stood out. There were the “lookers and fondlers” that basically had to see everything, did through everything, yet bought nothing. Then there were the “hagglers” who wanted to get a better deal than the best deal offered. These are my favorite because they have the most money to spend and they are trying to get as many deals as they can for their buck. Luckily, for me personally, I only had to drop off my price for one item which was the adult go-cart, I was asking $3500.00 since I paid $3500.00 for it. It was ran hard and I know it, but it was clean and well maintained, we settled on $3400.00 and the old man thought he got a bargain on the 5-year-old cart. I guess it is time to go buy me more toys for Christmas. The last group was the “in a hurry” people because they move at high speeds hoping one won’t see something or something will get missed. Are they scamming, probably not, but if something was overlooked they wouldn’t say anything in my opinion. But, they never haggle, just pay how much they owe, which is super easy for me. When I price something I always go high with it because I know people will want to work the price down, which is the game we play, but everything has a bottom dollar they won’t budge from.

Pictured above was load number two of the meat that was smoked, ribs, brisket, and sausage. Earlier I had smoked 80 sausage links and sold them for $3.00 a piece as sausage on a sticks. Since the meat was provided (donated) by my sister’s father in law, he wanted all proceeds to go to the “kitty” and divided up between the 6 families that were there, so we all got an extra $40.00 to boot plus I basically snacked on whatever I wanted all day long so I didn’t go hungry. In the end it was a good day, I went home with an empty trailer, a pocket full of cold hard cash, and a full belly. Anyway, that was my Saturday what did yours look like.