A Desi Hunter in the West

i`m sure we could even find you a real honest to goodness wild animal skin to wrap yourself with as you prance through the forest beating your fists upon your chest and yodelling.
perhaps that`s why its getting turned into a rug?

Uh.....yeah
I too, have a big penis ..

regards
RanaRansher

i should have paid more attention to the disclaimer.
what a colossal waste of time. of course i can`t now `rant rant rave rave` because all readers were forewarned, so i shall just stick to laying a curse on you and hope one day you have a waking dream in which you are shot as you stick your head in the refrigerator or wait in line at a cafeteria counter.

Azam Khan sahib I throughly enjoyed your article.

It brought back many memories of hunting quail and fowl with my uncle in Pakistan. Sometimes, he would employ a few beaters to scare the birds out of their hiding places and I was never certain who was more rattled, the birds or the beaters, everytime the shotgun would go off ! My poor aunt used to have a nervous break down and would distribute sweets at the mazar of a local saint every time I returned from the hunt.

My uncle was blind in one eye, but we were never sure which one was it, because he would always claim perfect vision. My mother always used to refer to our hunts as the case of the blind leading the stupid and was always sorry for the birds. It was her firm opinion that any bird we shot down would have been accidential, because uncle must have been aiming for something else ! My dad would always tell me that uncle was a lousy shot and just to irrate him, he would encourage all of us to ask uncle to tell us stories of his sniper days in the army !

This not a joke sir. I have never seen a group of men so relived and glad to be alive as the beaters who used to go out with us. After every shotgun blast, just from seeing the expressions on their faces, their faith in the benelovence of Allah was continually renewed and never questioned.