I was watching My Cousin Vinny yesterday on TV and my favorite part came on:
Vinny: What about these pants I got on? You think they're okay? Oh!
Lisa: Imagine you're a deer. You're prancing along. You get thirsty. You spot a little brook. You put your little deer lips down to the clear blue water.....BAM! A FUCKIN' BULLET RIPS OFF PART OF YOUR HEAD! YOUR BRAIN ARE LAYING ON THE GROUND IN LITTLE BLOODY PIECES. Now, I ask ya. Would you give a fuck what kind of pants the son of a bitch who shot you was wearing?
Enough said on how I feel about hunting.