Yee-Haw! It's the Great
Outdoor Games!
You ever happen to be flipping through the various ESPN
channels, hit around ESPN 31, and notice large, burly men
doing things involving dogs or wood? Then you've hit some
variation of the outdoor games, a set of sporting events
for people too backwoods-inbred to understand even
baseball. This weekend, the ESPN Great Outdoor Games 5 came
to good ol' Madison, Wisconsin, and Tom and I took a
fantastic voyage into a mysterious world of logs, dogs,
camo hats, heavy armaments, and some very, very red necks.
The very finest athletes that the backwoods have to offer
compete in a number of manly events, in a number of even
manlier categories.
Timber Events
- Men's/Women's Endurance: Timed chopping of wood three
different ways.
- Tree Topping: Climb a 65 ft. pole, cut wood at the top.
- Spring Board: Cut a notch into a 9 ft pole, insert a plank into that notch, climb, and repeat
- Hot Saw: Chainsaws with motocycle or snowmobile engines, loaded with rocket fuel. That is fuckin' manly.
- Speed Climbing: Climb a 65 ft. pole, fall down again. Persuing bear optional.
- Men's/Women's Log Rolling: Two competitors stand on a floating log, one falls off. That's the guy who loses.
- Men's/Women's Boom Run: Run across a bunch of damn
floating logs.
- Team Relay: All of the above combined into one ultimate, wood related throwdown.
Sporting Dogs
- Agility: Make your dog run an obstacle course without fucking up.
- Agility Superweave: Same thing with less obstacles and faster.
- Retriever Trials: Just like going hunting, but without actually shooting anything.
- Big Air: A dog runs down a dock, and jumps as far as it can into a lake. Like the long jump, but with abused, malnourished animals.
- Disc Drive: The same damn thing you do with your dog in the park. Throw a frisbee, the dog jumps up and bites it. Woo. Just like hippies.
Target Sports
- Rifle Targets: Shoot stationary shit with a rifle.
- Shotgun: Shoot moving shit with a shotgun
- Archery: Shoot all different kinds of shit with arrows.
Fishing
- Freshwater Doubles: Two guys go catch fish, and the team with the heaviest three bass and walleye wins. I assume beer is mandatory.
- Fly Casting Tournament: Not judged on the catching of fish, instead judged on the form and quality of four different kinds of casts. Sounds like rythmic gymnastics to me.
- Fly Fishing Tournament: Biggest fish wins. I'm sure it's about as exciting as watching the pope die.
These are, of course, a fine set of events using skills which are easily applied when you need to need to survive in the woods whilst being chased by Deliverance-style ass-raping hillbillies. Unfortunately, Tom and I showed up on Sunday, which was the last day of events, and we also didn't show up at six in the morning to wait in line for a seat in the bleachers. And I'm talking some serious lines. Some Mary-Kate Olsen sized lines (Ha! She's on drugs! What, you don't read the tabloids?). Pictured is the line for the log roll, and keep in mind that none of these people would get a seat in the bleachers until someone else left theirs.
The only view of the log roll we could get was this:
We watched for about 30 seconds before we realized that not
only could we not see shit, but log rolling is retarded
anyway. So we moved on to another event, the dog agility
event. We figured at the very least we might see some cool
dogs. Instead, again, we couldn't see crap because of all
the extremely wide spectators who had been there for hours,
maybe days.
I did manage to convince one of the bleacher guards to let
me walk up there for a picture of the dog course, and after
much explaining that my being up there for ten seconds
would not in any way compromise the bleachers' structual
integrety, she let me cut the line. Here's my ill-gotten
photo.
We watched exactly one dog run the course before we
realized we didn't give a shit about how well a dog could
jump a striped PVC tube. We also couldn't see anything from
behind a sea of lard-filled wife beaters and camoflage
hats. We could have watched the events on the jumbotron,
but we were hungry, so we began to wander around in search
of a manly meal. Not only did we find pork, but we found
the craziest assortment of white-trash exhibitors this side
of the mason-dixon line.
Since Tom and I couldn't see crap of the actual events and
were full of pork nachos and a barbeque pork sandwich
respectively, we decided to go explore the grounds of the
Great Outdoor Games. One of the first things we came across
was the bleachers for the tree-climbing competitions.
Some impressive poles, to be sure, but no one was doing any
climbing. No, the only place you caould see any real
tree-climbin' action was here.
At the Stihl Chainsaw Booth.
That guy climbing a pole was situated in between a guy
giving chainsaw demonstrations next to a saw-wielding bear
and a trailer with a display of the latest and greatest in
Stihl wood-massacreing hardware. Also, as we figured out,
the guy climbing a pole was an amateur. Only at the outdoor
games could you pick a random guy out of the crowd who was
capable of scaling a 65-ft. telephone pole. We then took a
walk over to the Outdoor Games "Base Camp", a huge fenced
in area with approximately four people in it.
There was no food, no outdoor sporting events, no liquor,
and no fun at the base camp. The only entertainment was a
couple of tools playing two-person acoustic versions of
shitty Matchbox 20 songs.
The only people they managed to entertain were five or six
octegenarians who had probably wandered into the outdoor
games when they couldn't find people to run down in their
Bucks. Also of note was that the girl was wearing a t-shirt
that said "Don't Label Me". Tom and I thought "I'm a slut
who wishes she were non-conformist and likes cock from men
who play guitar poorly like the guy next to me" was a more
apropriate slogan. I'll bet she plays that tambourine
really well, too. So there was clearly nothing on going on
inside the base camp, but there was some crazy action just
outside the gates. Namely, grifters!
Here we have our friend Steve Trash who, while Tom and I
watched, was just wowing the little white thashlings with
his sleight of hand, but I'm sure as soon as the adults
left he took their money by whupping them at the shell
game, or at least molested them. Shit, maybe he sold them
into sex-slavery at the circus. Bottom line, I don't trust
Steve Trash. Elsewhere, there was more wholesome children's
entertainment, namely Buck Trout's Puppet Show.
Ah, Buck Trout, where the young'uns go to learn that the
world is run by a secret Jewish cabal, that negroes can't
see at night, and that asians are good at math, which is
true. The next show didn't start for 15 minutes, so we
moved on. There were a cluster of tents with various words
on them that amused us.
Most ominous was definetly the waivers tent. I don't even
know what kind of rights one needs waived at the outdoor
games. Fearing the possibilities, Tom and I moved on to the
exhibitor booths. This was where the actions really was.
The place we stopped was the Beretta booth. For the
uninformed, Beretta makes guns. Big guns, small guns, and
guns for anyone interested in state separatist movements.
Unfortunately, even the Beretta company had given into
pressure from those liberal pinko lefties and had a special
van dedicated to keeping guns out of the hands of children
who rightfully deserve them.
Because of those filthy communists, Project Childsafe and
gay cop moustache there on the van were giving away free
locks for your family handgun. Now that's just shameful.
With a lock on your gun, how will you ever be able to shoot
that angry bear robbing your house, huh? I blame the
democrats. Elsewhere there were a number of other products
on display, some deadly, some less so.
On the left, we have a legitimately delicious product, a
number of various flavors of Famous Dave's barbeque sauce.
However, there was no meat with which to sample them, so we
passed. In the center is a demonstration booth for kitchen
craft waterless cookware. I have absolutely no fucking clue
what that is, but the guy in the chair certainly looks
interesting. And, on the left, the ever popular dog
harness. I don't see how most rednecks could even use that,
considering most of the time their dogs are placed in the
flatbed of their pickup. If they're concerned about safety,
they'll just slap some bungie cords on Fido. Elsewhere were
more dangerous booths, such as this, the giant friggin'
rack of compound bows, and the taxidermied animal wall.
Of course, the most dangerous thing of all was this: The
mobile machinegun mobile killing machine ATV o' death,
which Tom proudly modeled on.
Yessir, it's a custom built ATV with two built in shotgun
mounts. Yo Joe! Yo Joe is what G.I. Joes used to say in the
cartooon. Because the ATV looks like a G.I. Joe vehicle.
And now that joke is unfunny because it took so much
explaining. Damn you all. Now, however, are my two favorite
exhibitor booths of the whole crazy event.
My second-favorite booth was this guy, from
uncommonusa.com. What was he selling? Flags! Now, I've got
no beef with the selling of fine flags and flag accessories
like flagpoles, but this guys was hawking some crap.
Crap like airbrushed eagle flags, some of them complete
with a teardrop superimposed over a photo of the burning
world trade centers. Love it. Also fine was the flag that
simply stated "One nation, under god". Love that god. But
the guy took great pride in his flags, and was working his
damndest to sell one to this tye-dye clad, fanny pack
wearing asshole. But that wasn't my favorite booth. Hands
down, the best was the only art booth in the whole place.
But what kind of art? Check it:
Friggin' CHAINSAW ART! You too could have Perry Carlson
hack a bear holding a "go away" sign out of a log for your
living room. Is it art? Hell yes. Perry Carlson makes
Norman Rockwell look like a talentless dick.
That pretty much covers the events of the Outdoor Games
itself, but on the way out, in the parking lot, we noticed
a couple interesting bumper stickers.
"These Colors Don't Run" is pretty standard, and to be
expected at an event like this, however, the next one is a
little bit more questionable.
Holy shit! That must be the smartest dog in the whole
fucking world! It must be able to do arithmetic! It must be
able to operate a telephone! It must be able to NOT SHIT IN
THE FUCKING YARD AND COMPREHEND RATIONAL THOUGHT! Because
that's what most honor students and non-hillbillies are
capable of you fucking drunken redneck. Christ I hate this
person. They need to be devoured by dogs. Retarded dogs.
Lastly, I've got this interesting little combination of
bumper stickers.
So we've got "In the guard and proud," "4 GB PKRS," and
Kerry and Feingold stickers. I'm not going to draw any
conclusions, and just let the person die of cognative
dissonance.
What else is there to possibly say about Dodge Presents the
Great Outdoor Games 5? I will say that is the ugliest event
I have ever been to, and that includes the Minnesota State
Fair. There were exactly zero people there who I though
were hot, with the possible exception of the Famous Dave's
tent girl, but that may have just been the irresistable
allure of the barbeque sauce. It was also a very fat and
hairy event. It made me took like Kate Moss and Ryan
Seacrest respectively. And I'm a pretty fat, hairly guy.
Let's just say I'm not planning to go back, unless I take a
very sudden interest in wood and wood-related soprting
events.
I leave you with this photo of Tom reading the Beretta
catalog we picked up and pondering the purchase of his new
Cx4 Carbine Rifle with its "symphony of smooth, sweeping
curves". Watch out for Tom. His skinny ass'll shoot you
dead.
And yes, most of this article was spend making fun of all
manner of rednecks, white trash, and hillbillies. But guess
what? I don't give a shit! Try finding civilized society.
You might like it. Does that make me sound like an asshole?
Well, guess what! I'm a city-slicking, yankee asshole. So
eat a dick. And please don't club me to death.