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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NOSE SLUGS ENTER BRAINS IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN

THE BED BUG NOSE SLUG
By Tim Colin
Many people with cabins in the deep woods of Northern Michigan have been complaining about being attacked by a type of nose slug that lives in the bedding like a bed bug. But, unlike a bed bug the nose slug slithers up into your nose, nourishes itself on your nose hairs and then continues up into the brain cavity where it lays its eggs and then dies. For the next six weeks the victim will have to go everywhere without a single nose hair hanging down below the nostril.

Drake Nostrello was one such victim. “You cannot believe how embarrassing it is to walk around with no nose hairs. It would be less noticeable if I had had my eyebrows eaten off then my nose hairs. Without nose hairs my nostrils are always so dry that they constantly itch. You can tell when someone has been attacked by a nose slug because they constantly have their fingers up their nose scratching away at that incredibly dry nostril skin.”

Diane Nosette, another victim of the nose slug said that “The worst thing about the nose slug is when the eggs they lay in your brain hatch out. The eggs turn into little butterfly that fly out of your nose at the oddest times. Sometimes they fly out during dinner which makes anyone you’re having dinner with quite uncomfortable. No one ever says anything because I guess they don’t want to embarrass me by pointing out that little butterflies are coming out of my nose. I recently got married and my honeymoon was a complete disaster. My husband still won’t give my nose a kiss because he’s afraid a bunch of bugs will fly out at him."

There has never been an outbreak of nose slugs in Michigan that was this serious. Most experts believe the nose slugs entered this country from Canada where nose slugs are very common. It seems the first settlers in Canada did not have anything to trim their nose hairs so they imported the first nose slugs to this continent. The Canadians also found that nose slugs were very good to eat and worked well as a sausage casing. Nose slugs by themselves are said to taste best with mayonnaise although French Canadians prefer nose slugs with cheese sauce and light vinaigrette.

THE GIANT NUCLEAR MUTANT FROG

FISHING FOR WINTER TADPOLES
By Mike Colin
Most people would not think of tadpoles as being a delicious delicacy. Actually, the little tikes you find swimming in ditches and murky ponds in the spring and summer do taste quite awful. I ate some on a dare once and ended up getting my stomach pumped. In fairness to the tadpoles I also ate on a dare that day some tree bark, some lily pads and some raw road kill. But, out of everything I ate that day the tadpoles tasted the worst. The main lesson I learned from that ordeal is not to let your older brothers dare you to do anything.

Now as I was saying about tadpoles, the little boogers most people think of are not good to eat however, there is a type of tadpole that lives in Northern Michigan and it is just right for the dinner table but, they are not available until after the snow is piled high. These tadpoles are gray in color and can get up to seven feet long and unlike their summer cousins, these tadpoles have rows and rows of sharp, nasty teeth that can rip through a fiberglass boat like a chainsaw. I can still see the one I lost a few years ago from the shoreline. It sank in about five feet of water.

Now these large, toothy but tasty tadpoles I have found only in one small lake in Michigan. It is not far from where I grew up as a kid. The lake is in the exact spot that a nuclear reactor once sat. I guess there was some sort of accident and the reactor disappeared into the ground and a small lake formed in its place. I believe the accident was never covered in the news because a lot of government officials wanted to keep the place a secret because it was such a great site for catching delicious monster tadpoles. My dad use to catch fish in the reactor holding pond back before I was born. I’ve been told that’s why I was born with webbing between my toes and a set of functioning gills. My gills scare off a lot of girls every time they try to give me a hickey.

Now the location of this lake remains a secret to most but, if you happen upon it you will see the name is “Keep Out” lake or maybe lake “Keep Out”. I’m not sure which since the word “Lake” was left out of the name on the signs. The name is on a sign about every 20 feet on the ten foot high chain link fence that surrounds the lake. There is also a ring of barbed wire on top of the chain link fence so it would be very difficult to enter except that about 10 years ago a large tree fell across the backside of the fence and now you can walk right in. I disabled the barb wire so it won’t cut my tires when I drive over it.

On my last tadpole fishing trip I brought along a guy I work with named Gerrard. He’s an old guy (about 27) and he lives in his mom’s basement and raises rats for a living. The rat business he inherited when his dad disappeared. There was a lot of buzz around town that Gerrard’s old man was eaten by rats. I never asked Gerrard about his old man but I always think about being attacked by rats when I go into any basement. Of course the main reason I brought Gerrard along is that it takes two people to catch those really big whopper tadpoles. It also takes a tow truck and I happened to borrow one from my uncle Frank. I let him drive my girlfriends Jaguar for a day while I got the use of his tow truck so I could go fishing for monster tadpoles.

Now these monster tadpoles weigh from 200-800 lbs. My dad says he’s seen them lurking around in the mucky waters that were 20ft long and might of weighed 2-3 tons. That’s why just a fishing reel and plastic line won’t work on these tadpoles. If their sharp teeth don’t cut right through the line then they will simply run out the spool of line on your reel. The really big tadpoles are just about impossible to stop when they start to run because of their great weight and because they usually have little nubbins started for legs and arms. The nubbins give them a grip on the lake bottom.

Well, I backed the tow truck up to Keep Out Lake and released some slack in the wench. I had a tow hook already on the end of the chain and that was all I needed to catch a giant tadpole. Giant tadpoles don’t have to be actually hooked to reel them in. Giant tadpoles just kind of suck in the bait and then clamp their toothy jaws so firmly down that it would take ten sticks of dynamite to open them up again. Giant tadpoles love their food and once it is in their belly they will not let anyone have it or in this case, have it back. The bait we were using was a skunk I hit last week with about four pounds of bacon grease soaked into the fur. Even though for humans skunk smell really stinks, to some animals it is like a dinner bell. For example, skunk fur is used to make trout flies in the spring. Now the smell of bacon or pork makes every single plant and animal in the universe start to salivate. We have giant lizards in Michigan that live exclusively on pork.

Finally, Gerrard and I were all set to catch us a whopper of a tadpole. My dad and I used to go fishing for them when I was just a kid. One giant tadpole would feed my folks my brothers and me for most of the winter so; my dad always took our annual tadpole expedition very seriously. Once we had the bait tied securely with wire onto the chain just above the hook on the wench, we waded out about ten feet into the pond and tossed the bait out about another eight feet which was as far as Gerrard and I together could throw it. Then, Gerrard and I splashed around and around in the water to help draw a giant tadpole into our bait. I remembered when I was a kid my dad would have me swim out about 30-50 feet from shore and then splash around to draw the in the really big tadpoles. Then they would swarm in like piranhas. Of course just being a kid I could run like crazy to get away from the monsters. Now that I’m in my early twenties I think I might be slowing down too much to swim that far out into the lake and lure in the monsters.

So we were all set to catch a monster tadpole that day but, we did not imagine the size of the monster that we lured into the bait. About half way across the lake a giant creature broke the water and when it came down it was just a few yards away from where Gerrard and I were splashing around. Gerrard and I quickly ran from the lake and got into the tow truck. “Do you know what giant tadpoles turn into when they are mature?” asked Gerrard.

I gulped and responded “I’ve never seen them but, they must turn into giant frogs”.

No sooner had I said that and the monster frog had a hold of the skunk bait and had swallowed the entire chain all the way back to the boom on the back of the tow truck. I hit the gas but went nowhere. Gerrard and I each jumped out of the truck and started running back toward the main highway. I turned around for just a second and saw the giant frog swallow the rest of the tow truck. Luckily the tow truck must have filled the giant frog up because he did not pursue us.

Gerrard and I got away but I did lose my uncles tow truck. My uncle was upset until I offered to let him have the Jaguar. He was content with the deal and within a week he found a girlfriend and she consented to marry him. So, I ended up gaining a new aunt out of the experience even though I lost my girlfriends Jaguar. I didn’t mind. My girlfriend was so rich that it meant nothing to her and I liked driving her Trans Am a lot better anyway.

ICE FISHING CARNIVAL

By Tim Colin
Ice Fishing Carnival is an event held each year in Michigan. The event takes place out on the ice covering Lake Birdie. This event has been going on for decades and has always been exciting for participants and spectators alike. Many people participate in the sanctioned fishing and snowmobiling events. These events are very safe and great for family entertainment but, I don’t go to watch these events.

Instead, I like to watch the unsanctioned, showoff your snowmobile driving skills event. These people crank up their snow machines for exciting slides across sometimes treacherous ice. Watching people fly across the ice at 100 mph on their snowmobiles is really exciting. I especially like it when someone is going too fast and they are heading directly for someone’s cabin up on the shoreline. Watching the machines flip over and over as the drivers try to swerve out of a certainly fatal skull on cabin siding collision, can really give you a thrill. It is so much better than auto racing. Snow machine riders have almost no protection against frost bite let alone crashing into objects like cabins and ice shanties. Of course if there is an explosion, their clothing is usually highly flammable. Luckily they can roll around in the snow.

Another unsanctioned event that will give an onlooker a cheep but, no less exciting thrill, is the annual “Who is the stupidest person in Michigan?” event. In order to participate in this event you need to own a late model pickup truck with a blue book value of $50,000 or more. Each year there are at least a dozen people who participate in this event. The goal is to see how many of these trucks can park next to each other before the ice gives out underneath them and the vehicles become aquatic habitats for fish and other lake plants and creatures. Boy when that ice gives way those trucks really go down fast. You don’t dare make a trip to the port-a-potty or you might miss the whole show.

I get even greater thrills when the conservation and sheriffs officers start showing up and issuing citations to the truck owners. In addition to loosing their expensive trucks, these dim wits also get a nice hefty fine for polluting the lake. But, wait, there’s more. They also have to pay to have their sunken big trucks hauled out of the lake. For someone who likes to watch really dumb people loose lots of money doing something really stupid well, life does not get any better than a day out on the ice during Ice Carnival.

Of course you don’t have to go to a sanctioned event like on Lake Birdie to watch people do really crazy things out on the ice in Michigan. They do the same thing on every lake and river in the state as soon a there is a thin layer of ice on the water. The only thing is that during Ice Carnival you can get a hot dog and use a port-a-potty while you are waiting for someone to do something really stupid.

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.

HOW THE FRANKENMOOSE MONSTER SAVED CHRISTMAS

By Bob White
I have been following the legendary Frankenmoose, the one created by Dr. Stein Franken currently of Suttons Bay Michigan and formerly of Frankenmuth Michigan. It is said that Dr. Franken created his creature after a circus truck hit a moose just outside of Frankenmuth Michigan. The circus truck had a human driver and a full-grown Siberian tiger in the back. Dr. Franken could only find enough living tissue from the three victims to put together a single creature. The creature was part tiger, part moose and, part human. Although there are, other creatures called Frankenmoose this creature was in part named after its creator, Dr. Stein Franken.

Because Dr. Franken had created this monster in an area not zoned for creating monsters, he had to keep its existence a secret. Dr. Franken and his family nursed the creature back to health and the Frankenmoose eventually became one of the family. Everything went well until the Frankenmoose was burned on the behind by the family bratwurst grill. The fire and the burning sensation it caused, seemed to make the creature go mad. It went on a rampage of destruction all across the state. Finally, the Men in Dark Suits (MIDS) were able to trap the beast and send it off to a secret underground military base located beneath the sand dunes in Leelanau County Michigan.

The Frankenmoose had the wiles of a tiger, the intelligence of a human and the strength of a moose so; it was not long before the creature escaped the maximum-security base. After his escape, the Frankenmoose knew he would have to find work. He read the local papers and found an advertisement for a four-legged animal that could work hauling logs for an environmentally friendly logging company. It seems the company had a horse but the horse became old and had to be retired to the Grand Rapids Glue Factory and Retirement Home for Horses.

The Frankenmoose easily convinced the owners of the lumber company that he would be an effective animal employee who could carry several times his weight up a steep hill. On the day before Christmas, there was a terrible winter storm. The Frankenmoose was happily hauling large red pine logs up hill to an awaiting truck when suddenly a snowmobile smashed into the truck and an old white bearded man went flying through the air and landed on top of the left antler of the Frankenmoose. “Ouch,” went the old man as he rolled off the antler of the Frankenmoose and feel into the hard packed snow.

The truck driver, who was also the owner of the lumber company, jumped out of his truck cab and ran over to where the old man laid. “Are you hurt old timer?” the lumberjack asked.

“I’m fine,” the old man replied, “but, I’ve got to get to the toy factory in Mancelona and pick up some toys and take them to the orphanage in Kalkaska. I make this trip every year.”

The old man struggled to his feet, got on top of his snowmobile, and tried to start it. The engine would not even turn over. “Phooey Sticks,” the old man cursed, “I’m not going no where with this machine.”

The Monster had been listening to every word and had an idea. The great beast suddenly started burping and snorting in what seemed to be very chaotic patterns. Nonetheless, the lumberjack and the hold man listened intently. “The creature is signaling in Morris code!” exclaimed the old man.

“I know,” retorted the truck driver, “this creature is part human and the human part was in the navy just like I was. Morris code is how the creature communicates. I think he is saying that he will pull you and your snowmobile to the toy factory and back to the orphanage in Kalkaska.”

With the help of the lumberjack, the Frankenmoose was soon harnessed up to the snowmobile and running along the highway on his way to the little town of Mancelona. It was not more than an hour before the colored Christmas lights of Mancelona could be seen flickering in the distance. Then, just about a mile before the Frankenmoose got to town; a large ogre stepped out onto the snowmobile trail and blocked the only passage to town. The Frankenmoose stopped. “Oh no,” said the old man to the moose. “It is the nasty Pinecone Ogre. He eats pinecones all day and then his stomach gets so upset that he becomes mean and tries to ruin everyone’s day.”

The Frankenmoose was undaunted. He simply bent his head down and hurled himself with the snowmobile in tow, directly toward the Ogre. The Ogre would not move but simply growled and howled at the oncoming monster. The bad natured Ogre was no match for the Frankenmoose for the big rack of the monster caught up the Ogre and the Ogre was soon flying high to the other side of the county.

The Frankenmoose and the old man were soon sledding through the Christmas decorated village of Mancelona. Colored lights and ding-dong bells were all along both sides of the street. When they came up to an old abandoned and boarded up cheese factory, the old man said ‘Whoa,’ and the Frankenmoose came to a stop. The old man whistled and an overhead garage door at one end of the building slid up and the Frankenmoose hauled the old man and his busted sled inside. Inside the old building was a well-lit modern toy factory with hundreds of tiny persons dressed up like Christmas elves, working diligently packaging and wrapping thousands of toys.

The Frankenmoose was so captivated by the toy factory that he could not grunt or belch out a single word. In the mean time, the old man had disappeared into an office and reappeared dressed as Santa Claus. “Ho, Ho, Ho,” said the old man. “I bet you are wondering what is going on my monster friend,” the old man said to the Frankenmoose. “You’ve probably guessed that I am really Santa but, no doubt you are wondering why I don’t have my regular sleigh and reindeer and also why am I making toys down here in Northern Michigan? Well, I do not have my reindeer here because so many people shoot deer for food here in Northern Michigan so, I left my friends down state where they would not be injured. I set up a factory here because elves are willing to work more cheaply here in Mancelona then they are up in the Artic Circle. It is nice here with all the lakes, beaches, and fun things to do. In addition, by saving money on wages I can put more money into making toys for the little girls and boys.

The Frankenmoose was glad he had helped the old man and was happier still when they delivered the toys to the orphanage and the monster saw the happy faces of the little boys and girls. The Frankenmoose had made a friend in old Santa Claus and had helped bring a little joy into the lives of orphans. The Frankenmoose had saved Christmas for all the little children at the orphanage. He did not feel like a monster that night but instead, felt like a hero and even a little bit human.

THERE WERE THREE WOLVES

By Tim Colin
Three stray wolves have been menacing the people of Northern Michigan lately. In particular, they have been hunting down and eating severely overweight snowboarders. Local Department of Natural Resources officials believe that the reason the wolves eat severely overweight snowboarders is that thin snow boarders race downhill too fast for the wolves to grab them but, severely overweight individuals jump on their snowboards and just sink into the snow. Thus, they become the perfect treat for wolves that have been starving in Cedar Swamps most of the winter.

Investigations by area officials have determined that overweight snowboarders who are full of hot cocoa are the main victims. One official speaking with anonymity said that the wolves seem to crave the taste of hot cocoa. “Overweight individuals full of hot cocoa are just like giant thermoses to the wolves. The layers of fat evidently keep the cocoa warm and steamy. There is nothing better than hot steamy cocoa on a cold snowy day.”

A zoologist from Sea World has disagreed with the cocoa concept. She believes that the wolves are actually attracted to the taste of marshmallows. Since severely overweight people put lots of marshmallows in their cocoa then, it does stand to reason that the wolves would pick them out for eating due to their sweet marshmallow goodness.

To be on the safe side the Department of Natural Resources has banned all overweight snowboarders who drink hot cocoa loaded with marshmallows from going out on the ski slopes of Northern Michigan. This ban will remain in effect until the wolves are captured and transported to an island in Lake Michigan where marshmallows grow naturally.


























THE YETI IN THE OUTHOUSE

ICE FISHING CARNIVAL

By Tim Colin
Ice Fishing Carnival is an event held each year in Michigan. The event takes place out on the ice covering Lake Birdie. This event has been going on for decades and has always been exciting for participants and spectators alike. Many people participate in the sanctioned fishing and snowmobiling events. These events are very safe and great for family entertainment but, I don’t go to watch these events.

Instead, I like to watch the unsanctioned, showoff your snowmobile driving skills event. These people crank up their snow machines for exciting slides across sometimes treacherous ice. Watching people fly across the ice at 100 mph on their snowmobiles is really exciting. I especially like it when someone is going too fast and they are heading directly for someone’s cabin up on the shoreline. Watching the machines flip over and over as the drivers try to swerve out of a certainly fatal skull on cabin siding collision, can really give you a thrill. It is so much better than auto racing. Snow machine riders have almost no protection against frost bite let alone crashing into objects like cabins and ice shanties. Of course if there is an explosion, their clothing is usually highly flammable. Luckily they can roll around in the snow.

Another unsanctioned event that will give an onlooker a cheep but, no less exciting thrill, is the annual “Who is the stupidest person in Michigan?” event. In order to participate in this event you need to own a late model pickup truck with a blue book value of $50,000 or more. Each year there are at least a dozen people who participate in this event. The goal is to see how many of these trucks can park next to each other before the ice gives out underneath them and the vehicles become aquatic habitats for fish and other lake plants and creatures. Boy when that ice gives way those trucks really go down fast. You don’t dare make a trip to the port-a-potty or you might miss the whole show.

I get even greater thrills when the conservation and sheriffs officers start showing up and issuing citations to the truck owners. In addition to loosing their expensive trucks, these dim wits also get a nice hefty fine for polluting the lake. But, wait, there’s more. They also have to pay to have their sunken big trucks hauled out of the lake. For someone who likes to watch really dumb people loose lots of money doing something really stupid well, life does not get any better than a day out on the ice during Ice Carnival.

Of course you don’t have to go to a sanctioned event like on Lake Birdie to watch people do really crazy things out on the ice in Michigan. They do the same thing on every lake and river in the state as soon a there is a thin layer of ice on the water. The only thing is that during Ice Carnival you can get a hot dog and use a port-a-potty while you are waiting for someone to do something really stupid.

ATTACK OF THE BRAIN EATING, FLYING, ZOMBIE SQUIRRELS

Tim Colin
Recently, Northern Michigan suffered an outbreak of giant, brain eating, flying, zombie, squirrels. The first of these creatures was observed near the famed Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park. It is widely known that beneath the park is a government run, super secret, experimental sciences laboratory known as Area 91.

The modus operandi of these monsters is to swoop down upon their victims from behind and then proceed to gnaw through the skull and into the brain cavity. Then, the zombie squirrels eat every single brain cell. So far there have been over two dozen victims. None of the victims have fully recovered from their attack. Most of theses brain cell challenged individuals don’t seem to miss their brains too much however, after a while each victim seems to go in to a zombie trance and then, the new zombies begin to try to eat the brains out of non-zombies. It is almost like they are trying to replace the brains they lost by stealing as a meal, the brains of the non-dead.

In addition to their bad behavior, each person who transitions into the zombie state has no pulse and feels cold to the touch. The disease spreads between humans just as it spreads from squirrel to human. Each person attacked by human zombies also becomes stone cold and has no heartbeat. It seems that the virus is transmitted only through saliva since in order to get the disease; the potential victim must be bitten. Once bitten, the victim has a 100% chance of coming down with the disease. The disease is of course incurable and the only treatment is to destroy any brain cells that zombie might have. You have to hit the zombie in the head to stop them. Otherwise, they will simply get up and pursue another victim.

I have recruited my friend Gerrard to help to stop this zombie epidemic in Northern Michigan before it becomes a world wide pandemic. Gerrard raises rats in his mother’s basement for scientific experiments so; he has some knowledge of rodent behavior. I also consulted local Traverse City psychic Madam Misty Merkel. She in turn consulted a friend oh her’s who is a witch. The witch told Madam Misty that the best person to talk to would be someone from Jamaica. In almost every old zombie movie the person who gave the zombie life was either from Jamaica or Hattie. The witch insisted that zombies are created by persons who practice the art of voodoo.

After consulting the web, Gerrard found that there was a Jamaican living in Saginaw Michigan and working at Delta College who was on loan from the Jamaican University of Occult Arts and Crafts. We immediately contacted this man and after intense negotiations, he agreed to meet with us for $15.00 and a carton of menthol flavored cigarettes.

The learned Jamaican was Professor Main E. Ack. The professor was assigned to the custodial sciences at Delta College while his credentials are being checked and pending the outcome of his deportation hearing. The professor has listed on his face book page
that he is the world’s foremost expert on mammals with brain eating disorders.

When I met the professor I noticed that he did not have dreadlocks. When I mentioned this to him he accused me of being a racist and besides, he was actually from Brazil but had to go to Jamaica to study the occult sciences at university level because he did not have the grades to study the occult sciences in Brazil.

Professor Ack did give us one very important information that we did not have before. It seems that according to a History News Nuts blog, brain eating squirrels were common to North America until the time of Columbus. Columbus and his brother discovered that by hitting the squirrels directly in the head you could kill them. Since that time brain eating zombie squirrels were thought to be extinct.

After we gave Professor Ack his $15.00 and a case of menthol cigarettes, Gerrard and I returned to our base in Traverse City. We now knew exactly how to stop the brain eating zombie squirrels and the humans they had infected. You had to hit them in the head. That was the only way to stop them. Hit them in the head with a bullet, a ball bat or a golf club, it did not matter. The brain had to be destroyed or whatever brain cells were left after other zombies had feasted on the head.

It was not long until everyone in the Traverse City area was hunting down zombies and bashing their brains in. Traverse City area residents used various methods to destroy the zombified squirrels and humans. Some residents used golf clubs. Some used coffee cups with the most exquisite latté in them. Others used such brain killers as hockey sticks, tether balls and lawn jarts. In the end, zombism died in the forests of Grand Traverse and Benzie counties.

Although all know zombies were wiped out there are still several unresolved questions regarding the zombie outbreak? First of all, why did the zombie outbreak get started in the first place? Have there always been zombie brain eaters out there that we ignored until a massive outbreak was staring us in the face?

Another interesting question is what part did area 91 play in the zombie outbreak? Do the scientists that play god under the sand dunes have some chemical that causes the dead to become undead and crave brains? Is this some sort of military experiment?

Perhaps the scientists who work at area 91 under the sand dunes have some sort of time travel machine. Maybe they retrieved diseased animals from the past before Christopher Columbus and his brother eradicated the little monsters from our continent.

One other interesting issue is that we were attacked by brain eating flying zombie squirrels. Clearly, the history books state that the original brain eating zombie squirrels swung down from vines to attack their victims. They could not fly evidently or, they would not have had to swing down. Was the change from regular squirrels attacking humans on vines and the current monsters being capable of flight, an accident of nature or the hand of man at work making a killing machine just that much more perfect in design?

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.

IS CEREAL GOOD OR IS IT JUST CHEAP CRAP SOLD AT A HIGH PRICE

By Mike Colin
I’ve been made to eat rotten tasting cereal for years. My parents made me eat it. I had to eat it in Head Start and I had to eat it at the homeless shelters. Now that I’ve got money that my girlfriend gave me I decided I’d be a scientist and test my cereal to see how good it is. I’ve been feeding chipmunks, birds and, squirrels for the past couple of months. I started out feeding those peanuts. Boy, did they love them. I then started feeding them moldy bread and spoiled stuff from my refrigerator. All that stuff the animals loved.

So, I decided to feed the local animals some of my cereal that I have been forced to eat since I was a little kid twenty years ago. On the cereal box it says that the cereal is packed with all kinds of needed vitamins and minerals that are needed for a healthy body. The animals treated my cereal literally like cat litter. Evidently my rotten tasting cereal was not full of anything that animals need to stay alive otherwise they would have fought over those golden, crispy flakes. Maybe I need to change to a diet of eggs and bacon. I put some spoiled eggs and bacon out one time and a chimpmunk ran off with the entire breakfast tucked away in his cheeks.

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.