THERE ARE NO BEARS IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN

WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TRY ANY ACTIVITIES FOUND ON THIS BLOG. WE ARE INVESTIGATIVE PROFESSIONAL JOURNALIST. IF WE DON'T KNOW WHAT WE ARE DOING THAN WHO DOES? TRYING TO DO ANYTHING THAT OUR STAFF DOES IS PURE FOOLISHNESS. IN SUMMARY, ONLY FOOLS DO WHAT WE DO.

For many years people have been told that there are bears in the woods in the Northern region of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. In truth, I have never seen a bear in Michigan except at the zoo. I believe that the rumors of wild bears running around in Michigan are fostered by the Wisconsin tourist industry. They are trying to scare people out of traveling to our wonderful state. Well, I have decided to put an end to these vicious rumors once and for all. So, with my brothers Mike and Ted, we are going off to the deep woods to spend a couple nights camping and looking for evidence of bears in the area.

Day 1
No Bears
Well, we're camping out in Kalkaska County in a large cedar swamp. Bears in Florida like swamps so we figured that bears in Michigan, if they exist, will love this big smelly swamp we found on Google. This is state land but, it does not appear that anyone has ever camped here. The mosquitoes are really bad. Hopefully, when it gets dark the mosquitoes should go to sleep and not bother us until morning. All we have to do now is gather up some firewood and heat up a can of beans and roast our hot dogs. We probably shouldn't’t be eating the beans. We’re liable to have a midnight musical extravaganza. I just hope its country or rock music and not some disco crap like we had to listen to on our last camp out.

2 Hours Later
Well, the sun has gone down but, the strange thing is the mosquitoes have not gone to sleep yet. Instead, they are swarming all around us and seem to be biting more often. Ted said mosquitoes never sleep. I hope Ted is wrong or this is going to be a really long night.

In order to get some bears to come around our campsite, we have left out some chopped up pig carcass on the hood of the car. The engine was really hot by the time we got back here so we decided to cook half of the pig parts a bit to get the scent in the air. The rest of the pig parts we left in the back seat in case we needed more bate for later.

The pig parts were left over from when we were chumming for great white sharks out on Lake Michigan. I’m going to have to pick up a lot of pop and beer cans downtown to pay all the fines the Department of Natural Resources socked us with. Who knew you needed a fishing license to look for great white sharks?

Midnight
Well, my watch says its twelve o’clock and I think something’s going on in the brush. I can’t tell what it is but, something is grunting and, moaning and. circling our camp. At first I thought it was just my brother Mike going for a bathroom break but, he’s still snoring away in his sleeping bag. Well, neither of my brothers is sleeping now. Something big and black just attacked the car. We should have parked the car closer to the camp fire so we could watch the pig carcass better.

I’m not sure what this thing is but, it’s up on its hind legs chomping down on the pig parts. It can’t be a bear because they never stand on their hind legs like a human. It must be a big hairy human. We’ll know more tomorrow when it goes away and the sun is up.

Day 2
It’s 6 a.m. and something has not only eaten every last bit of pig but, it tore the heck out of Ted’s car. Ted is just sitting up in his sleeping bag not moving at all. He just stares over at his ride. I think he’s in some sort of coma or something. It’s a good thing he’s in a coma because all the windows were smashed and his back seat that held the rest of the pig parts well, I never liked the upholstery anyway. The outside of the car was in even worse condition. Two of the tires were chewed right down to the wire mesh inside of them. There are more claw marks than paint left on his old red Chevy. It’s a good thing I talked him into taking his car out on this trip. I’d be really upset if something ripped my car up like that.

We were very fortunate that the creature did leave some evidence behind for us to examine. At first I thought Mike had something to do with it but, he flatly denied knowing anything about the large brown pile of evidence. Yes, the creature took time last night to relieve itself near Ted’s Chevy. Of course, this was no bear that did this. It was a hairy giant manlike thing that stood up on its hind legs while it ate pig and destroyed the red Chevy. I have waited my entire life to find evidence of this creature. Yes, I saw the creature Native Americans call Sasquatch also, known as Big Foot.

Epilogue
As we walked out of the woods I was elated. Not only did I prove there were no bears in Michigan but, I proved the existence of Big Foot. The camera on my cell phone was not working again however, I had in a plastic baggy the evidence I needed to show the scientific world, the quality of the research I do here in Northern Michigan.

We walked about a half mile down the old two track lumber trail then; I thought we had some more luck. We spied a Department of Natural Resources officer walking our way. Unfortunately, the news he had for us was grim. It seems it is illegal to bait bears on state land so I got a whopping ticket for that. My brother Ted received a citation for abandoning a dilapidated vehicle on state land. The worst news was that removing Sasquatch droppings from their natural habitat is also illegal so, I had to put the pile back where I found it. The officer confiscated my empty bag in case I tried to snitch a little bit of illegal Sasquatch droppings.

Well, at least we proved that bears don’t exist here in the lower peninsula of Michigan. I do want to warn everybody that you should not leave any pork parts in your car overnight. My brother Ted found out the hard way that Sasquatch can be really persistent when it comes to pork. Next time, Ted is going to keep any extra pork we have in his sleeping bag where it is safe.

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THE SKEGEMOG LAKE MONSTER

HUNTING THE SKEGEMOG LAKE MONSTER
By Tim Collin

Skegemog Lake is located in Northern Michigan and is visible from highway U.S. 72. Much of the lake is surrounded by a protect protected natural habitat, hiking area which is famous for the abundance of Michigan rattlesnakes. Rattlesnakes do not usually bother people but, they do not like to be stepped on. Someone once told me that the venom of the Michigan Rattlesnake is fifty times more powerful than most other rattlesnakes so, it must really hurt if you get bit.

A few days ago I read on the Internet that the rattlesnakes in Skegemog Lake have been hard to find lately. In addition, fishing has also been really poor there recently. When I talked about this at the bar yesterday a man from Midland Michigan said that the reason the fish and snakes are disappearing is because of the giant snapping turtles that live in the lake. One in particular is a monster over 20 feet long and is known by locals as “Old Skeggy”.I asked the man from Midland Michigan how he knew so much about the problem in Skegemog Lake. He said that he was a turtleolgist (someone who studies turtles). He introduced himself as Bugzy and said he’d be willing to mount an expedition to find Old Skeggy if I would put up the $15.00 to rent a canoe. I agreed to his terms and the next morning we were standing on the shore of Lake Skegemog with our aluminum canoe. I had my brother Mike accompany us because if we found Old Skeggy we were going to try to put a large fish net over it. I figured we could use an extra hand to haul in a giant snapping turtle.

As we neared the center of the lake we noticed lightning off in the distance. The clouds were really black and the storm seemed to be moving in our direction. My brother Mike was concerned that we might get hit because we were in an aluminum canoe. However, Bugzy said that the aluminum would conduct the lightning bolts away from our body and we were much safer than if we were in a fiberglass canoe. Besides, the fiberglass canoes were an extra $5.00 to rent for the day.

Mike also wondered why we did not have a more substantial boat to go after such a large monster. Bugzy pointed out that a canoe is more maneuverable than a large boar and we could get right up near shore if we had to. Besides, if a canoe is flipped over it is easy to flip it right side up. A larger boat would be nearly impossible to flip quickly and with rattlesnakes and giant turtles in the water, you want to get back in the boat as fast as possible if it flips. Bugzy further stated that he knew what he was doing because he was a scientist with a background in turtleology. With such credentials how could anyone argue with Bugzy?

Just as the black thunderheads started to roll in and rain began to sprinkle down, some large, massive saucer shaped object soared past us at no more than three feet away. The thing must have been 15 feet long. When the object got about twenty feet away, a head popped up and turned an eye back at us then, the head went back under the waves. The waves were getting bigger as the wind increased. The sky had turned totally black and the rain was wiping down on us as we sat in the middle Skegmog Lake.

Lightning bolts came down like spider legs all along the shore. My Brother Mikes’ hair became really kinky like he just had one of grandma’s permanents. Then, suddenly, the entire canoe was raised out of the water and we found ourselves traveling on top of the giant snapping turtle. He swam toward the shoreline at the speed of a motor boat. Mike and I just sat still hoping the thing was not going to eat us once we were closer to shore. Bugzy was busy pulling up the fish net we had laying in the canoe. I figured our turtleologist must have a plan to save us from certain death.

When our canoe was just about 50 feet from shore Old Skeggy sank down like a submarine and our canoe went riding off into shallow water. Mike and I jumped out of the canoe and ran for our lives until we reached shore. We turned around to see Bugzy with his net, trying to ensnare Old Skeggy. Bugzy managed to get the net over Old Skeggy but the turtle used his beak to slice through the net and swam off to deeper water. Bugzy walked slowly up to the shore with his head held low. He was so dejected that Old Skeggy had gotten away when we were so close to capturing him. Just as Bugzy stepped on shore the canoe was hit by several bolts of lightning at once and exploded. The orange glowing metal pieces feel back into the lake and sizzled as they sank to the bottom.

Mike was the first to speak and said that he thought Old Skeggy had saved our lives. Bugzy did not say another word until we had a couple of beers at the bar. Then he told us that he was going to give up turtleology and become a truck driver. Bugzy said that he had been a truck driver until Tuesday. That was the day he decided he would try being a turtleologist.

The only thing good about this adventure for me is that I did not end up paying a fine or having to do community service which, seems to be my usual reward for being curious about the out of doors and life in general. I did have to pay $300 to the canoe rental business for failing to take better care of the canoe.

We did not get bit by any rattlesnakes but, there is a giant snapping turtle in Skegemog Lake. I do not think he was trying to hurt us and in fact, he may have saved us. I also learned that turtleologist don’t know anything about lightning strikes. I leaned that just because someone is a genius in one scientific field it does not mean they know anything about any of the other sciences.

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FINDING AND AVOIDING QUICK SAND ALONG MICHIGAN RIVERS, LAKES AND, STREAMS

By Tim Colin
Editor
A Humor News Nuts Publication
A Division of Frank Humor and I.M. Nuts Inc.

Today we are going to be talking about a safety issue. Each year pretty much no one is reported drowning in quick sand in Michigan. Of course, the victims of quick sand submerging  are never found, nor are they ever heard from again. This makes it difficult to estimate the number of lethal quick sand incidents each year however, in Michigan alone I would venture to guess that at least a thousand, or so people disappear into the wet cavities of the earth each year. Since there are no apparent remains left after a quick sand incident, the only way the loved ones will ever know of a quick sand disappearance is by using a Ouija Board.

There may of course, be remains found one day of the victim. Perhaps in a million years or so a fossilized finger might turn up in someone’s tomato garden. Of course, the finder of said finger will admire it for a moment or two and then, toss the stone aside just as we do today whenever we find a fossilized animal or human bone in our garden.

Although there is a lot of science stuff regarding what quick sand is and how it is formed etc., etc., I decided the best way to explore quick sand is to go out and find some. I believe that a hands on approach to finding out about quick sand is much better than just reading some mumbo jumbo in a text book. Besides, how complicated could quick sand be? It is wet sand and if you step in it you go down in it and you become a permanent resident of the underground. Besides, I watched an episode of MacGyver where he got out of quick sand so, I pretty much know what to do.

A warning to the public: QUICK SAND IS VERY DANGERROUS SO, IF YOU WANT TO GO SWIMMING IN IT YOU HAD BEST NOT GO ALONE. I was able to get my brother Mike to come along with me on this trip. I promised him he could keep all the cans and bottles we found so he could turn them in for the deposit money.

We picked a fast moving river that ran through a swamp. It had been raining for over a week so the river was about three times deeper and moved much faster than usual. We each wore waders since sometimes the water went up to the crack under your knee caps. We waded down stream from where we were parked for over an hour but, we did not find any quick sand but, there was a lot of mud and bugs. If you opened your mouth, you could get a full course meal of bugs, with textures ranging from jellied to crunchy.

Finally, we had a little action. My brother had wandered off down river about a hundred feet or so when he lost his footing and was grabbed by the current and rushed down river over sharp rocks, sharp sticks and logs as hard as concrete. I smirked a little when he fell in but, when I saw his head bobble away down the rapids I decided I would be expected to at least go look for his body.

Just as I was moving along the river bank trying to figure out how I would explain my brothers demise to my parents and his new girlfriend, wouldn’t you know it, I stepped into some quick sand and was up to my waste in liquid earth. I immediately yelled for my brother Mike to come and save me in the off chance he had managed to save himself and could thus, save me. I yelled several times but, he never showed up so I knew I was on my own. I had a cell phone but, I knew it would be too late for me if I called for help. The best I could do with my phone was to take some pictures as I slowly sank to my doom.

I decided as I sank that I was not going to give up. I wanted to live to inherit some money from my parents one day. With my brother Mike and myself gone, my brother Ted would get everything. I just could not stand that thought. I had to find a way out.

The problem with quick sand is that MacGyver was right on his reality show: the more you struggle the more you sink. I was already up to my belly button and I knew I would not last long. I would have done something based on science like MacGyver but, I flunked chemistry in high school and took mostly PE and Wood Shop classes for electives.

Finally, I had some luck. An overhanging branch from a spruce tree was just in reach of my finger tips. Gradually, I worked my entire hand up the branch then; I grabbed the branch with my other hand and pulled my body up, out of my waders and safely onto muddy, but stable ground. I sat there a couple of minutes covered with mud. My shoes and waders were long gone so I would have to make my way back to the car with just my socks covering my feet. All I wanted to do was go home, take a hot shower and go to the bar.

When I got to the car, my brother Mike was there. He had a lot of cuts and bruises but, he was still alive. He told me that the river wound around back towards the pull off where the car was parked. Mike said that as he sailed past our car he grabbed onto a piece of brush hanging out over the river. He said he didn’t know how he was going to make it to shore since the current was so strong he couldn’t get his feet to touch the river bottom. Finally, his waders filled up with water and then the heavey boot ends sank like rocks to the river bottom. The bottom was just over waste high and with the added weight of the water in his waders, Mike easily walked back up to the shore.

I told Mike I had fallen into quick sand as I rushed to save him. I then asked him why he didn’t come when I hollered for him .He claimed he didn’t hear me scream. He said the rush of the river was so loud that my calls for help must have been drowned out.

In conclusion, you should be careful when looking for quick sand along Michigan’s rivers, lakes and, streams. If you do fall into quick sand hopefully there is a low hanging branch near by so that you can pull yourself out. You see, in woods of Northern Michigan, if you get into trouble,no one can hear you scream.

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SOME CALL IT ROAD KILL; WE CALL IT SUPPER

Along Michigan Highways and byways, there are tasty treats waiting there for all of us human carnivores. Carcases and hunks of meat are just lying there to be eaten by the first person or thing, that passes by.

Many people believe that the many thousands of furry morsels are the result of animal mutilations by aliens from another world. Still, others believe that the large number of tar fried critters is the results of excessive speeds on long and lonely Michigan highways where, only the concentration needed for text messaging while driving at excessive speeds, keeps many drivers sane.

One restaurant in Northern Michigan that specializes in road found meats is called the Shoulder Side Brisket and Biscuit. Each morning before going to the restaurant he owns and manages, Chef Louie DeCorpsey heads along the highways of Northern Michigan with his Special 008 Department of Natural Resources licence to pick up the recently deceased dinner bargains.

Over the years, Chef DeCorpsey has served up the most incredible meals made from the strangest of animals. "Most of the time," Chef DeCorpsey explains, "I don't know what the stuff is I'm picking up. Sometimes I get whole steaks. Other times, it's just hamburger. If it's been lying around long enough, it may already be turned into a nice bisque. The only problem I have is that sometimes with the larger animals there is a lot of windshield glass embedded in the meat. Getting out the glass is time consuming however, for the price, I can't complain."

Chef DeCorpsey passes on much of his savings to his customers. His $1.99 Gag Me With A Spoon Skunk Soup is a favorite with the local people. One elderly lady commented "I haven't had such good skunk soup since my granny used to make it during the depression".

Raccoon Raspberry Cream Pie and Squirrel Turnovers are among the favorite desert dishes served up at this little gem of a restaurant located in Northern Michigan. Of course the Porky Pine Nettle Tea will send quills up your spine.

THE POTTED MEAT BYPRODUCTS COMPANY

By Mike Colin
A while back I happened to be downtown when I ran into a friend of mine called Mr. Giltman. He and I were roomies back when I was homeless and had to live under a bridge. He taught me a lot about survival when you fall on hard times. It seems Mr. Giltman had fallen on hard times after he had gotten out of the army way back in the 1960’s. He said he had seen some really bad stuff in some war. I think it was the Vermont War or some war that begins with the letter “V”. My history teacher in high school had to skip over the 1960’s period because it was too controversial. All I was taught in school about history is that we had a war against the communists and we won and now we are at war with terrorist because they do not like us because of our superior way of life.

When I ran into my friend Mr. Giltman he said he was still living under a bridge but, he was no longer feeling very well. He told me he did not have money for a funeral but, he had found out that he could have his body picked up and disposed of for free. He then asked me to do something really weird. He said that he would be going down to the “Habitat for the Hopeless”. That is a place homeless people go to, in Mr. Giltman’s words, “cash in their last sack of cans”. Mr. Giltman said that after he had passed, if I followed his remains I would find out something really interesting. Mr. Giltman said that because I was a legitimate investigative reporter I could get a really be scoop. I did not ask what the “scoop” was made of; I just hoped it did not rhyme with “scoop” and begin with the letter “P”.

A week went by before I got a call from the home where Mr. Giltman went to pass over into the next world or into some alternative dimension like Goth World or Toronto. I rushed over to the home but, Mr. Giltman had already cashed in his last sack of cans and received his bottle deposit slip which, they tied to his big toe.

I waited around for a while then, two men dressed in dark coveralls showed up and took Mr. Giltman out to a large dump truck. The men placed Mr. Giltman in a bucket which was attached to a hydraulic lift at the back of the truck. The lift raised the bucket up and then dumped Mr. Giltman into the back of the truck. It was like watching a garbage truck dump a dumpster.

The two men dressed in dark coveralls climbed into their truck and sped off with me close behind them. They had driven about ten miles out of town when they suddenly turned into a factory. There was a sign in front of the factory which read “The Potted Meat Byproducts Corporation”. The men backed their truck up to a large shoot and dumped the contents. They pulled their truck out away from the shoot and then parked it in front of the factory. I parked my car and got out. I was about ready to go into the back of the building to follow the path of the shoot when suddenly one of the men shouted “Hey fella! Are you following us?”

“Yeah, I guess you caught me,” I replied.

Then the one guy said “We noticed you following us a ways back. You know it’s close to lunch time so why don’t you come inside and try out our commissary. The food is free to employees and visitors.”

I decided that since I had been caught I had better comply with these guys. I figured that getting a free meal was better than being arrested for trespassing. I also figured that at least I’d get inside the factory and that I still had a chance to find out what Mr. Giltman wanted me to know.

The two guys waited for me to catch up with them so we all walked inside the building together. We crossed a large reception area and entered what appeared to be a large cafeteria. I followed my two new acquaintances up to a long food bar. We each grabbed a tray and some silverware then, we walked along the food bar picking up whatever we wanted to eat. There were rice dishes, tacos, pizza and macaroni items all made using potted meat products made right there at the factory. There were so many dishes that I commented that it would take a week to sample everything. One of the guys said” Don’t worry; you can come back here any time to eat. The reputation of our products is based largely on word of mouth so; just say good things about us. That’s all that we ask.”

These were really great guys. In addition, the food was really great too. I guess that what Mr. Giltman wanted me to find out was that The Meat Byproducts Company produced some really outstanding food. Of course not only is the food really good but, The Meat Byproducts Company practices good citizenship by volunteering to dispose of the bodies of people who can’t afford the expense of either burial or cremation. I was also informed that on the other side of the building The Meat Byproducts Company also disposed of road kill found along area roadways thus, helping to keep Northern Michigan looking beautiful for visitors and locals alike.

MICHIGAN LIZARD MONSTER EATS PET PIG

By Ted Colin
No creature lurking in our deepest nightmares could cause people to sweat rivers of terror tears like, the Michigan Lizard Monster. Just this spring the creature was almost affectionately called lizard boy by local tourist. He then stood a modest one foot tall. Then, as the creature began to steal bacon and pork products his list of crimes committed grew with his height until now he might be better known as lizard man (or woman because no one can actually tell). This creature has now grown to be nearly two meters tall (that’s six and half feet).

The most recent crime the lizard monster committed was against our own native born famous star of TV and stage Miss. Marry Ann Morningstar. Miss. Morningstar’s most famous role was when she once made an “eking” sound for a spider puppet on the TV series “H. R. Puff & Stuff”. Miss Morningstar’s career has not been as robust since then but, she does teach karaoke 1, 2, 3 and 4 and, acting classes at the local community college.

Up until a few hours ago, Miss Morningstar lived in a trailer park with her pet pot bellied pig named Mimi. Miss Morningstar has been working on a comeback Youtube internet special featuring the famed actress and her trained pig. The name of the film was to be Mary loves Mimi. It would have been a true spectacular comeback for the aging actress featuring singing and dancing with her best friend Mimi. This would have been as big as one of those Disney movie musicals except it would have been set in a fairly run down trailer park instead of an upscale high school. Dogs run freely around this park so you would have to watch where you stepped when you dance. This internet musucak would have been as great as West Side Story. But, the pig is no more and all the dreams of public stardom for the former spider princess of television, are gone.

It happened quickly. A few hours ago the Lizard monster came out of no where. Just as Mimi was rehearsing her Michael Jackson moonwalk tribute, the lizard creature grabbed the pig from behind. The drooling lizard man then proceeded to devour the screaming pig in what seemed to be 35 seconds. The lizard monster ate the pig bones and all like, an ear of corn. Miss Morningstar watched with horror as her pot bellied friend was eaten by the evil lizard creature. Miss Morningstar then, looked on helplessly as the lizard man ran on its two back legs, down the muddy trailer park road, crossing the highway and disappearing into a thick growth of spruce trees.

Dogs were called in to track the creature but, the dogs seemed afraid of chasing the creature in the thick underbrush so the search had to be called off. The sheriff said that the attack might have been prevented if everyone in the trailer park had just taken some extra precautions. It seems that a nearby neighbor of Miss Morningstar had been pan frying pork sausage with her window open. The sheriff surmised it was the cooking pork smell that lured the monster into the trailer park. One very disturbing new issue which the authorities are very nervous about is that this is the first attack in which the lizard monster was witnessed eating a living piece of pork. In addition, in the past the creature has preferred cooked pork.

So, when will this terror end so the people of Northern Michigan can resume leading full, meaningful lives with lots of pork products cooked openly outside? Surely, Washington must be able to help us. Many people in Northern Michigan have roots going back to Central and Eastern Europe where pork was the main stay of many of their diets. Every part of the pig was used. Things that nobody likes to look at were ground lovingly into sausages. Of course, cooked pork on the grill always smells good, no matter what the pork is allegedly made of. But, without our open air pork cooking Northern Michigan just does not smell the same.

NORTHERN MICHIGAN INTERNATIONAL CRICKET CHAMPIONSHIP

By Ted Colin
Each year the Northern Michigan International Cricket Championship draws people from all over the world. We have people come from places as far away as Grawn, Fife Lake and, Mancelona. Many of the people who show up each year speak different languages and have very different customs. For instance, many people who attend these games can’t understand why we have pay toilets when the competition takes place in the woods. Personally, I really can’t understand the pay toilet deal myself. Especially, since the pay toilets only take $5.00 bills. I put in a $10.00 bill and I didn’t get any change back. I guess I won’t be buying any more pop from the concessions stands since it costs more for the pop going out than going in.

Well, although there are many differences between the teams and spectators at this year’s cricket event there is one overriding factor that brings everyone together: we all love watching those little critters duke it out in the ring. The main ring this year is an old hula hoop I found out behind one of the pay toilets. It looks like a car ran over it but, it is still holding together well enough to be used as the main ring. The other rings are just drawn in the sand.

Now before you can compete in a cricket match you have to find a cricket. The best way to find a cricket is to leave your front door wide open for a couple of days. Sooner or later out of all of the bugs, animals or looters that comes into your house there is bound to be at least one cricket. Of course getting a cricket into your house is just the first step in catching one.

In order to catch a cricket you have to stay up real late and get really, really tired. Then, when you turn off the lights and try to go to bed the cricket will start chirping so loud that you will rise up like a zombie from the dead but, instead of yearning to eat brains like a zombie the only thing you will yearn to do is get a hold of that cricket. Of course the cricket creature itself has the ability of a ventriloquist in that it can throw its voice to any place in the entire house. It is almost like the cricket just sits and watches you as you look all around under furniture and in closets, in the cloths hamper and behind the washer and dryer. Sometimes you just want to yank out the gas stove even though it has a gas line hooked to it. You are so tired and desperate for sleep you just don’t care anymore. After a while you can almost hear him laughing when he sees you about to find his hiding spot and then the cricket suddenly stops chirping. Then, you just stand there waiting for the creature to start chirping again hoping beyond all hope that you can find the little monster and get him to stop his hideous sounds so you can finally get some sleep. Of course he doesn’t start up again until you’ve turned off the lights and climbed back into bed.

Eventually, the cricket will make a mistake and you will catch him mulling around in the shower or just outside of the refrigerator. Now although the temptation to get revenge upon the cricket for keeping you up all night is strong, it is important that you keep a cool head about you and try to capture the little beast without harming it. After all, a squished bug is not going to win the cricket boxing tournament for you. And, if you accidentally rip off its forearms then he will be disqualified because the bug will no longer be able to wear the tiny boxing gloves that are mandatory in the sport of competitive cricket.

Once you have your cricket you have to put him through a vigorous training program which includes getting your bug to bulk up. Lots of sugar water is a good start to any weight gaining strategy whether it is for humans or bugs. Most people train their crickets to box by at first placing a tiny little mirror in front of the bug in order to get his competitive juices flowing. Then, placing live crickets with your potential champion in a confined area like a shoe box will be all you need to do to hone those talents that are the stuff that all champion bugs have pent up deep within their souls. Of course several hours of meditation should be a part of your potential champions training regiment. That way by the time of the big match-up your bug will be in complete harmony with the universe and he will have gained inner peace. At that moment your cricket will be able to rip the exoskeleton off his competition and eat those blue-green cricket guts all the way up to the eyeballs.

This years champion was named “Killer Bug”. Now Killer B. was not the actual last bug left with its insides in tacked. The last bug left was Spider Snyder but Spider S. was disqualified when the officials realized that he really was a spider and therefore was not really eligible to compete against crickets. The rules might have been bent a little if Spider Snyder happened to be a grasshopper or even a fly but, spiders are not even insects; they are arachnids. The officials just decided that an arachnid fighting an insect just was not a fair fight so Killer B. won this years championship posthumously since Spider Snyder had already devoured all of Killer B’s soft tissues. Hopefully next year the officials will be more on the ball and disqualify non-species entries before they are allowed to compete in the cricket matches.

HUNTING DEER IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN

A GUIDE TO HUNTING DEER IN MICHIGAN WITHOUT BEING KILLED
By Mike Colin
Many people in Michigan look forward to hunting deer for fun and profit. The fun part is being able to look a fellow creature in the eyes and put a bullet or arrow through its lungs. Girls often do that to me. They look me in the eyes like they really care about me and then they shoot me through the heart when they say they just want to be friends.

The profit from deer does not come from the meat (called venison). The steaks on a deer are pretty good but the rest of the deer tastes pretty gamey and should be used for stews (add lots of onions for better flavor). Stews are what you feed your relatives and other people you don’t care about when they stop by at dinner time. I save my good meat to impress dates. I don’t actually cook it. Instead, I just open up the freezer to show off all the expensive steaks I keep. After I show off my expensive meat I always take dates out to eat. My cooking is not very good. I can’t make a slice of toast that I’d be proud of.

The real profit from deer comes from the hides. A lot of hunters will pay big bucks (LOL) to have their hide tanned. A lot of guys make a good living tanning deer hides but, sooner or later they come down with anthrax and then, they have to pass their business on to their kids.

Before you go out after the Michigan white tail deer, you need to decide how you want to kill the deer. In Michigan there are several approved of seasons for deer including bow (or crossbow for old geezers), rifle, shotgun, muzzleloader and, pistol. We also have some unapproved deer seasons like dynamite and, off road vehicle slam banging.

Once you have decided on the type of hunting you are going to do then you must purchase the appropriate uniform. For instance, during bow season most people dress in camouflage so that the relatives and spouses they hunt with can’t pick them off so easily. During firearms season, most people are smart enough not to go with their greedy and trigger happy relatives. Then, they can dress in bright orange suits so the other hunters can see them. Note: If you do go with your relatives during deer hunting season make sure you let them know that your life insurance policies have lapsed because of non-payment and that you don’t intend to make up the payments until deer season is over.

Once you have decided which season you are going to hunt in then, you must choose your weapon. I like a nice deer hunting rifle that costs less than ten bucks (LOL). I usually find a rifle at the U Steal We Fence Pawn Shop. These guns usually need some minor adjustments which can be held in place with duct tape. Instead of spending a lot of money for a scope, I just duct tape a pair of old binoculars to the top of my rifle. A regular scope reminds me too much of my high school science class. Not only did I get a black eye from the crappy telescope but I got a D+ in the class because I couldn’t tell an ameba from a protozoa. Like whoever needs to know that crap in the real world? I never talk about amebas or protozoa with any of my friends.


Once you are in the deer woods you need to find some proper protection. The best thing to hide behind is a big rock. Unless the other hunters are using grenade launchers you can feel pretty safe hiding behind a large rock. However, there are usually few large rocks in the deer woods so you will often have to protect yourself by hiding behind a large tree. The tree should be some hardwood variety like oak and be at least 20 inches thick. A lot of guys are using armor piercing bullets that can pierce a 12 inch spruce tree like a lawn jart can puncture your liver.

This year on opening day of deer season I went back to my favorite spot to hunt deer. I call it Fort Deer Camp since it is made up of a bunch of large logs that give me about three feet of cover on each side. Fort Deer Camp is an easy landmark to spot since on top of one side of the fort there are a bunch of dead limbs that look like a large 10 point buck from a distance. The big buck standing on top of my blind helps to get the attention of other big bucks that might be itching for a fight. A lot of guys swear that from about 50 yards away it looks like I have a real deer overlooking my little fort.

I didn’t see any deer on opening day this year since I was pinned down on my belly by rifle fire. This happens every year on opening day. I always have to wait until the tourists go home later on in the week before I can sit up and watch for deer. This year I didn’t think I’d ever get out of the woods but, my old man happened by my blind and laid down some cover for me with his 30, 06 rifle. I crawled on my belly out to the road where my old man was smoking a cigarette. He hadn’t seen any deer either that day but, he had gotten a nice buck the day before the season opened. Now he got the deer legally since he didn’t shoot it. Instead he hit it with his truck. He said it was an accident. He even told the deer and the game warden he was sorry.

Dad invited me back to his house where mom was fixing venison steaks and morel mushrooms for supper. The supper was super and it was a good way to end the day. Northern Michigan is a great place to live. Most people can even live through deer season. You just have to keep your head down low and hide behind some really thick trees.

LEADING NORTHERN MICHIGAN OUTDOORSMAN GOES OUT WITH A BANG

By Mike Colin
The greatest outdoorsman I have ever known has died in a tragic underground explosion. I am of course talking about my Great Uncle Oslo. Uncle Oslo was a hunting and fishing maverick. He invented new ways to hunt and fish faster than the government could pass laws to ban them. Thanks to Uncle Oslo you can no longer hunt geese using lawn jarts or, use horse shoes to hunt chickadees. His electric chair for the snow shoe hair was once featured in “The Alternative Hunter Magazine.” He was also on 60 Minutes before he went to jail for helping his friend, Dr. Kevorkian.

The local police believe that Oslo was blown up by a still he kept hidden in an old bear cave. My aunt told me that in fact, Uncle Oslo was getting ready to go fishing and was busy making up some home made dynamite when the explosion occurred. My dad said Uncle Oslo would be alive today if he had only stuck to the old family recipe for making dynamite instead of downloading one off the internet.

There is some good to come out of the tragic death of my uncle. It seems that Uncle Oslo never told anyone as to whether he wanted his remains cremated or buried after he died. Well, since his body was instantly vaporized in the blast and then the ashes were buried when the bear cave caved in, one way or the other my uncle’s final wishes have been carried out.

WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TRY ANY ACTIVITIES FOUND ON THIS BLOG. WE ARE INVESTIGATIVE PROFESSIONAL JOURNALIST. IF WE DON'T KNOW WHAT WE ARE DOING THAN WHO DOES? TRYING TO DO ANYTHING THAT OUR STAFF DOES IS PURE FOOLISHNESS. IN SUMMARY, ONLY FOOLS DO WHAT WE DO.

Back when we were young, my brother’s and I used to love a summer picnic. We had squash blossoms, road kill burger surprise and yard salad. Yard salad was made up of dandelion greens, wild onions, twigs, weeds and, grasses we found in the yard. We used to mix ketchup, mustard, salad dressing, vinegar and, orange tang together to make a dressing to put over our yard salad. Dad also used the dressing as a cure for his hangovers. Overall, the food was pretty good.

After a filling meal, we would often have to burn off some energy by playing summertime games. We sometimes would play horseshoe. This got to be kind of boring since we only had one shoe. We found the shoe when we went down the road to investigate a nearby summer music camp. The camp had horses for the kids to ride and evidently a horse left one shoe behind. It was “finder’s keeper’s loser’s weepers” so; we kept the shoe to play horseshoe.

Horseshoe was not our favorite pastime and, it was not the game we played the most. My family enjoyed a good game of lawn jarts just about every time we had a picnic. I remember us kids were really excited when dad found a set and a half of lawn jarts while we were foraging at the local land fill. Rich kids would go with their families each week to the K-mart store to shop. My family went to the local landfill every Sunday after the tourists dumped off their garbage and went home. We would just sort of look around for stuff. We would find household items like dishes and broken clocks. We would also find things like tools, cloths and when we were lucky, we would find toys. The land fill did take some getting used too. It looked like a big mess but, it smelled just like grandma’s kitchen. This smell put us at ease. When it started to get dark, dad would tell us to get a move on. He said that the bears would be there soon. There are of course no bears in Michigan. People always mistake Big Foots for bears.

Lawn jarts was such a great game that even mom and dad would play. We kids would play each other for Petoskey stones. Mom and dad would play for shots. Whenever one of them scored a point, the other one would have to drink a jelly shooter as a penalty. These shooters were like Jell-O shooters only we couldn't’t afford Jell-O. However, the relatives gave us lots of homemade jelly at Christmas time.

How do you play lawn jarts? Well, lawn jarts are like short spears with a long point on one end and a weight up near the point. The other end of the jart had a handle on it and just a little ways past the handle were plastic fins like the fins on a regular indoor dart. You would divide into two teams and each team had a plastic yellow ring that would be laid out several yards from each other. Each plastic ring was about two feet across and the way to score points was to stand at one ring and fling the jarts toward the other ring. Each time your jart stuck in the ground within the opposite ring, you would score a point. The first team to score 20 points or, the first team to have a parent fall to the ground and go to sleep, lost.

Because dad started downing penalty jelly shooters long before the game started, everyone wanted mom on their team. His team very seldom got to 20 points. We all piled on top of him to wake him up but, all he did was snore. If the next day were a work day he would always call in sick.

Lawn jarts, like the ones we had as kids are just about impossible to find now. I guess there was some sort of safety recall. It seems some people might have had accidents with the points of the lawn jarts. Instead of throwing the jarts at the yellow rings, people would accidentally toss the rings at the people standing near the yellow rings. We had our share of close calls, accidents, trips to the emergency room and near death experiences but, no one ever had an eye put out. I did get stabbed in the kidney and my brother Mike was stabbed in the foot. My brother Ted had one stuck in his head for a week before he finally had the gumption to pull it out. These were just minor injuries that bandages and duct tape took care of. Overall, lawn jarts was great summer fun. If I ever have kids, lawn jarts will be the first toy I find them at the land fill.

FROG LEGS DELIGHT

By Mike Collin
Recently, I and my older brother Tim went out to get some bull frog legs for dinner. We haven’t had to eat frog legs since we were kids but, Michigan is in some tough times right now. It’s like our dad is in charge of the entire economy and just like when we were kids, everyone is starving.

Don’t get me wrong. Just because poor people eat frog legs does not mean they don’t taste good. In fact, they are excellent. They really do taste like chicken. There just is not a lot of meat on each leg. It’s like eating buffalo wings. You need a mess of frog legs to get a meal.

My brother picked me up from under the bridge where I am currently living and we went to our secret frog leg pond way back in the woods. We parked near the “Exploit Chemicals” chemical dumping site at Quagmire Lake. There we found an old two track road that we walked down until we got to the old frog pond about a mile from Quagmire Lake. There were lots of bullfrogs and my brother and I each got six frogs which amounts to twelve legs for each of us. They were feisty little fighters. We caught each one with a homemade butterfly net then stuck them in a burlap sack.

We started back but took a wrong turn and got lost. Finally, we ended up on the other side of Quagmire Lake. We went up to the trail that went around the lake figuring that the trail would lead us out to the road. When we got to the lake shore we noticed that there were nothing but dead animals all around the shoreline and dead fish floating all over. There were deer and foxes and rabbits and birds all over.

My brother Tim started to panic. He insisted there must be some monster in the lake that is so horrible that it is scarring everything to death. Neither of us wanted to stand around there so we got going down the path until we could see the road and the chemical dump. We noticed that there was a line of trucks at the dump waiting to poor their stuff down a drain in the parking lot. As they poured some green and orange stuff into the drain it immediately came out the end of a pipe and fell like a waterfall into the lake. Tim said they were trying to dye the color of the lake so that they could better see the monster that was scarring all the wildlife to death. The trucks had a lot of foreign writing on them. There were trucks with writing in Italian, Chinese, Spanish, German, Dutch, Portuguese and a couple of trucks with writing neither of us could recognize. We figured they must be from Canada.

Just as we were getting up to the road a DNR (Department of Natural Resources Officer) stepped out of the bushes and asked us “what do you have in the bag?” We told him we had some frogs and opened the bag to show him. The officer then asked us if we had fishing licenses. Tim and I pulled our bill folds out and showed him our licensees. The officer then counted the frogs in our bag and said we had too many. He said we could only have five frogs each in your possession. He then said we were in violation of the law. He then wrote us out a citation for $100 each. He then said if he caught us poaching animals again we were going to be in big trouble.

I asked the officer if he was there to investigate all the dead animals around the lake and if the chemicals being poured into the lake by the trucks might be the problem. He said the chemical company called him and said there were two scruffy guys out poaching frogs in the woods. He also said the chemical company was licensed to dump chemicals from foreign countries in the lake and that the company was a good partner with the DNR. We then received our citations and the DNR officer confiscated our frogs. He then dumped all twelve of the frogs into Quagmire Lake. Within a few seconds the frogs were all floating motionless on top of the lake.

Well, this was not such a good frogging trip. Now I’ve got to pick up a thousand cans and bottles to get enough deposit money to pay my $100.00 fine. My brother still wants to go and pick up crayfish (crawdads) next week but, I think I’m going to cancel.

TAGGING THE NORTH AMERICAN BIG FOOT

By Tim Colin
Although there is not much that you can legally hunt this time of year, it is good to be preparing yourself for hunting season. This year I intend on bagging me one of those big foot monsters that scare away tourist from Northern Michigan. The problem with the typical big foot monster is that they are dark colored and very hard to see at night. Nighttime is the best time to hunt big foots because that is when most of the conservation officers are sleeping.

I have come up with a unique way of solving the coloring issue of the big foot monster. I intend on creeping up to the big foot monsters while they are feeding and paint a large fluorescent ‘X” on the sides of the creatures. In order to minimize the danger to myself, I have with me my younger brother Mike who is going to assist me by actually painting these large, powerful and, hungry beasts. While my brother paints the beast with an “X” I will be hiding in the bushes ready to dial 911 in case something bad happens to my brother. I am just glad that I had the foresight to realize that this was a job that would take two people.

The paint I was using was some I picked up at the county garage. They had a lot of it sitting around so I figured they wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a five gallon bucket. That just made one less can that they would have to deal with.

The bait I was using to lure the big foots in was a garbage sack full of Walleyes. My uncle Mike had gone fishing down south of a chemical plant in Midland. He scooped up a whole bunch of fish with his net. The fish couldn’t swim too well because of all the large tumors they had growing all over them. My uncle soon found out that he couldn’t clean the fish because the stuff oozing from the tumors was eating through the steel of his fish fillet knife.

After my brother poured out the fish on the ground we both hid in the bushes. It was only about ten minutes later when a large brown big foot showed up. It ate on the fish for a couple of minutes before my brother finally got up the guts to go out there to paint an “X” on the creature. My younger brother had a dripping paint bush in his hand as he slowly edged up to the big foot monster. “Hurry up,” I yelled at him, “We don’t have all day,”

Well my hollering must have got the bears attention since he immediately charged my brother and swiped him across his belly with his enormous claw. My brother fell to the ground like a sack of flour. He just laid there shaking and bleeding. AS for the bear, he just turned around and went back to eating the fish. I starting laughing and had an awful time stopping long enough to call 9-11. Just thinking abut my brother lying twitching like he was still brings a smile to my face. The only bad thing is that the big foot ate up all my bait and I didn’t even get him tagged with florescent paint.

My brother only ended up having the front of his shirt tore to shreds and a few scratches. After a hundred or so stitches my brother was ready to go home. It looks like this year I am just not going to have any advantage at all hunting big foots here in Northern Michigan.

HUNTING MUSHROOMS IN MICHIGAN OR, CALL A PARAMEDIC PLEASE!!!

By Tim Colin
You can't be a true outdoors person in Michigan unless you hunt for mushrooms. Mushrooms are common especially during the wet, sloppy season we call Spring. I have gone hunting for the elusive morel (yummy) mushroom since I was a kid. I have been well trained to identify morel mushrooms from the many species of mushrooms in Michigan that are poisonous even, deadly poisonous. So be warned, DO NOT ATTEMPT TO PICK MUSHROOMS UNLESS YOU HAVE BEEN TRAINED TO IDENTIFY THE EDIBLE FROM THE POISONOUS TYPES!!!

With the above in mind, I decided to take my brother Mike with me into the mushroom woods to teach him how to find and identify morel mushrooms. My brother is not stupid but, he has a very short attention span and a real problem with logical and coherent thinking. He wasn't too interested in looking for mushrooms so, I told him that you can meet some really nice babes in the deep woods. I meant to say "bears" but, the mention of "babes" seemed to get him interested in hunting mushrooms so, I didn't correct my misspoken word.

After about an hour thrashing around in the bush, I found zero mushrooms. My brother on the other hand, found a whole bag full of mushrooms. Unfortunately, they were not morel mushrooms. I had no idea what the mushrooms were and I said that it would be unwise to eat the mushrooms unless they were identified by someone more experienced in mushroom identification. My brother disagreed.

After a trip to the emergency room, a stomach pumping and two blood transfusions, my brother is now in stable condition. My brother did not farewell after eating mushrooms that he knew nothing about however, he claims he saw a lot of "babes" after chowing down on the little knobby fungi. I told him I think he was probably seeing angels. He responded "you're right, they were gorgeous".

"Whatever!", I replied.
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TROLLING IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN OR LIFE UNDER A BRIDGE

In Northern Michigan jobs are scarce and from time to time you may find yourself without an indoor residence. You can try to go camping in one of the parks or maybe just sleep in bathroom stalls but, the more experienced persons will tell you the best thing to do is to find a bridge and stay under it. Ones that are over rivers and streams are the best because you won't be rolling out into the traffic while you are sleeping. Bridges over steams and rivers also provide a good sourse of water to wash up in or just cool off.

If your bridge home is in a area of heavy foot traffic, you also have a good chance of getting a bite to eat if someone drops or throws their food over the side. Sometimes you can pick up change or cans with deposits on them under the bridge. This is great. In most homes people aren't going to throw money and food off the roof for you to have. I especially like the money because then I can go get a couple of 40 ounce beers to kick back with at night.

Nights are pretty cool under a bridge and you meet a lot of interesting people and animals. I once had a stand-off with a rabid skunk. It was neat how he was all wild eyed, foaming at the mouth and, barring his teeth at me.

People who live under bridges are often thought of as trolls like, in the Billy goat gruff story. In fact, we often call each other troll. When we see each other we might say "hey troll, how's it hanging?", or maybe we'd say "he's my main troll,". Don't ever say "she's my trollfriend," instead of "she's my girlfriend." Girls are a little more sensitive then guys at being called trolls. Of course the most important thing is that if you don't live under a bridge, don't call people who live under bridges trolls. It just isn't cool. It makes you sound like you are racially prejudiced against troll people.

Overall, trolling is an optional life style if you have no place else to go. Most people are on again off again trolls and don't always live under a bridge. You might just hang out there for the summer or, if your wife, girlfriend or parents kick you out of the house. Just remember that if you see a troll, just set that last bit of hot dog or sandwich down with the outside wrapper still on it. If you just drop your leftovers on the ground they get all sandy and gritty. That's bad for the digestive system.

Finally, I'd like to just mention the virtues of dumpster diving. In dumpsters you can pick up some pretty good eats for free but, you might have to fight off the sea gulls. I'd go into dumpster diving more completely but, I don't have the time. Finding your meals in dumpsters is quite a complicated science with what my brother calls a lot of caveats to it. So be good and stay cool troll. Maybe someday we'll be living under the same bridge together.

FISHING FOR THE MICHIGAN PIRANHA

By Mike Collin
Back when I was a kid, my dad would take me to his secret fishing hole and there he would teach me how to fish for piranha. He said he was the only one who knew about the spot. It seems that when he was a kid he stole his uncle’s pet piranhas and released them in a small lake way out in the woods. Over time, the piranhas took over the lake and were the only fish left. He told me these piranhas were an especially aggressive variety that were used to living in really cold water. My dad said that the piranha would eat ducks, geese, rabbits, deer or, any animal that happened to wander into the water.

I’ve been feeling like eating fish lately so, yesterday I rode my bike to my dad’s favorite piranha fishing spot in Western Lower Michigan. I had to ride my bike because my eyesight is still a bit blurry. I still have a bit of nerve damage from the accident. It seems that my brother Tim had a muscle spasm the last time we were playing lawn jarts. Well, the jart ended up being stuck in the middle of my forehead. I wanted to leave it stuck in because it made me look tough and it really impressed the ladies. You should have seen the looks I got at the bar. No one had a body piecing like the big orange spear I had in the middle of my head. After a couple of days I was getting really dizzy so I went to the doctor and she removed it. She told me the only reason I survived was that my skull was thinker than what most people have. I guess that‘s something to brag about.

Well, anyway, after going down an old two track lumber trail I got to lake I found out my can of worms was full of dead, smelly night crawlers. Luckily, there was a pile of rotten leaves nearby and it was not long before I had a couple dozen leaf worms. Before I picked up the leaf worms I had tossed the rotten night crawlers out into the lake to help chum for fish.

Unfortunately, no fish showed up and then I remembered how my dad taught me to fish for piranha. So, I took off my shoes and socks and waded out into the water until I was standing knee deep. It was a quiet morning so there were no waves. This made it easy for me t look around to observe any fish. I then began wiggling my toes in the water. I still did not see any fish coming. I then stated raising fist one foot up and then the other, each time wiggling my toes like little hairy caterpillars. Suddenly several dozen piranha came rushing in at my feet and began biting at my toes. I quickly ran back to the shore. Even though I was up on the shore I had three large piranhas holding onto my feet with their teeth. I was very pleased. I hadn’t been there five minutes and I already had a good start on a fish fry. I caught seven more fish on my fishing pole before my worms ran out. It was fine since I had enough fish to clean that day for a fish fry dinner for myself and my new girlfriend.

I did not end up bleeding too much after piranha fishing that day. I remember getting bit really bad by piranhas when I was a kid but, this time I only had a few chunks of meat bit out of my feet and shins. I also won’t have to cut my toe nails for a while. The piranhas, by the way, were delicious.