Minnesota Deer Hunting Blog 2013 - Part 2

Here we are - on the eve of my departure for the beginning of the 2013 deer season. Almost everything is in order....most of my clothes have been washed and packed, my guns and ammunition are ready, and I just took a shower with my new scent-away soap. Hard to tell if it's really working, although it did do a very good job of eliminating the smell of my Right Guard deodorant I was wearing.

This evening I shot the new .30-30 a bit more at 100 yards. I was more inconsistent this time, but I can attribute that to the fact I had a less adequate rest and shooting setup than last time. A few days ago, when I had the rifle immobilized, lying prone and using a sandbag under the foregrip, I was hitting a very accurate group. I decided to leave my scope settings alone and trust that I had accurately sighted the rifle on my previous attempt.

I also shot a co-worker's Remington 700 chambered in .270, and I have to say I was very impressed not only with the gun, but with the optics. He had a 9 power Leupold scope mounted on the gun, and I must say it was a night and day difference from the Marlin factory scope on my gun. I definitely think I will invest in some better optics prior to next deer season based on how great the sight picture was on the Leupold.

I am not sure how I will be updating this while in the thick of things up north, but perhaps some short video logs will be in order. Going to be a great season with the whole crew back together again.

Best of luck to all my fellow hunters this weekend.

Minnesota Deer Hunting Blog 2013 - Part 1

I finally logged back in to my disused blog (3 years since my last post!) to use it as a platform for this blog series. I hope to post here more often, because I often have ideas for blog posts but nowhere else to post them.

Anyhow, last year I wanted to blog my deer hunt from beginning to end but never got around to it. I plan to actually do it this year. Simply put, I love deer hunting. It is one thing I look forward to all year long. Every hunter will tell you their own reasons for why they love to hunt - getting close to nature, the thrill of the pursuit, the freedom from everyday stresses...I love all of those things, but what I love most about hunting is the atmosphere. It is very difficult to describe....but during the few weeks of firearm deer season, especially in the small world near my cabin in northern Minnesota, it is as if the universe acquires all new rules of operation. The whole observable cosmos shrinks down into a county-sized splotch of land, whose inhabitants share only one profession: hunter. Conversations with locals start at the drop of a hat, your matching blaze orange outfits serving as an immediate ice-breaker. Trucks rolling opposite directions down a gravel county road will stop amidships for a moment to compare notes and stories. The local bars are a raucous sea of blaze orange and camouflage each night....the patrons either celebrating a full meat pole or lamenting an empty one over a beer. Heck, even the drive up to the cabin is a surreal experience: an immense column of pickup trucks and SUV's stacked end-to-end, their rear windows stuffed to bursting with orange clothes, gun cases, and rubbermaid totes....their drivers invariably festooned with camouflage paraphernalia. All moving inexorably towards one common goal.

That is what I am attempting to describe: that over-arching sense of communion with your fellow man. All your differences are set to one side for a brief time each November, and every hunter becomes bonded with his fellow sportsmen by their mutual appreciation for the joy of experiencing the natural world in this way. Some might call me crazy, but I like to think of this atmosphere as a thing of beauty. It is this strange, insular aura that I find so captivating. The excitement turns grown men into oversized children....giddy with excitement and dying to tell tales, compare toys, and do a bit of boasting. In a few weeks, things will go back to the way they were....to day jobs, stresses, and drudgery. But for now? It's time to play.

*********

With that introduction, let us get more to the specifics of my hunt. Opening day is November 9th, and I will be heading to The Compound in northern Minnesota on Friday night November 8th. As of right now I am planning to hunt until November 12th, but that could be extended to the 13th depending on how much I am needed at work.

This year, I have done more to prepare for my hunt than I ever have before. Each year, I've gradually acquired more and more gear, gadgets, and clothing, and I've made several purchases this year to improve my chances of success. Notable among them is a complete scent control system, starting with detergent and including body wash, scent blocking base-layers, and scent eliminating deodorant. I'll also be using a grunt call for the first time this year....we will see if it works. We have a late start to the season this year, so the rut should hopefully be in full swing, making aggressive tactics like grunts and scents more effective.

But perhaps my most notable purchase was a very recent one: a second deer rifle. I sold my Husqvarna chainsaw and picked up a Marlin 336W 30-30 with a factory scope:

I just sighted it in last night, and I cannot believe how well it shoots! I was hitting 1" groups at 100 yards with 150 grain Hornady Whitetail ammunition. I will still bring my old Mosin-Nagant with this year as a backup gun, but I have to say, this new rifle is like going from a moped to a 1000cc sport bike. Light, nimble, and very accurate, I am loving it so far. I'm willing to sacrifice a little power to improve my target acquisition and ease of shooting.

This week will be spent on preparation. Washing and packing clothes, organizing gear, and getting my truck cleaned and ready to roll. This will be a great season....I can feel it already.

Can't wait!

New (JAZZ) Vinyl Review! - Dream Patrol - Calling the Czar

Dream Patrol - Calling the Czar (1988)

The players:

Mark Ross - Keyboards (not the same Mark Ross from Quarterflash mind you)

Larry Kilmas - Saxophone

James Donnellan - Guitars

This was a lucky find during a trip to the thrift store. It's usually a dangerous proposition when you buy an album based on the cover art, but therein lies the fun (and occasionally the agony) of discovery. My interest, beyond the cover art (done by famous album cover designer Hugh Syme, who has done covers for Rush, Queensryche, Aerosmith, Megadeth and tons of other bands) was piqued by the fact that there are 3 guys in this band and none of them plays drums. You have a saxophonist, a guitarist/bassist, and a keyboard player. I surmised (correctly) that this was probably some kind of a new wave jazz band.

So tonight, I tepidly put this baby on the turntable and let 'er rip. To my surprise I was actually really drawn in by the music. The best way I can describe their sound is to say that their music would not be out of place being background music for a Miami Vice episode or a late 1980's Jean Claude Van Damme movie. Their sound has that kind of muted, laid back 80's feel that evokes images of nattily dressed evil tycoons enjoying baby seal sausages and drinking fine wines while discussing how best to receive their latest shipment of 'product' from Colombia.

Dream Patrol's music is also just about the best example of mood music I can think of. Several of the songs on this album, again, would not be out of place in an 80's film as the backdrop for a steamy love scene, replete with painstakingly shot camera angles designed to reveal plenty of tits but nothing else.

Most of the tunes are smooth-grooving jazz numbers with a solid synthesizer foundation, overlaid with bass lines and extensive saxophone melodies. All the songs are tastefully constructed, and the part that endears me the most to this record is that they didn't fall into the use of the traditional boring ass 4-note basslines and snare drums played with brushes that seem to be the foundations of traditional jazz.

I think there would be a temptation for some people to call this elevator music...and I think that might not be unfair, considering if you heard this in an elevator you probably wouldn't think twice about it. Still, I think the competency involved in the construction of the songs is worth commending. SOMEone has to write songs to listen to while eating a fine dinner and drinking absurdly expensive cocktails, so it might as well be these guys.

Suggested Cuts:

"Flight to Cairo"

"Nepenthe"

Concert Idiots - A Guide

One of my main forms of recreation is going to concerts. Most people know I'm a big music guy and I pattern a lot of my hobbies around music in one form or another. There are things I love about the energy of seeing one of my favorite bands in concert...the anticipation once you get to the arena...shelling out mad money for cheap merchandise, singing along with the show, allowing yourself to be gulled into the whole 'false encore' thing that everyone does...etc.

But there are negatives. Huge crowds, pushy people, pickpockets, big city traffic, shrivel-dicked security guards, and extremely overpriced food and drink to name a few. But by and large the thing I dread the most about any concert I attend is the fanbase. Almost exclusively, the performers I enjoy had their heyday a minimum of 20 years ago. Thus the fanbase is usually far older than yours truly, and brings with it a strange mixture of fan types, most of which I tend to avoid like the plague. What I'm about to write will come off very Holden Caulfield-ish to most people, but that's the beauty of the internet. I can write this, you'll read it (or not), you can type out a scathing retort, and I can not give a damn...then the cycle begins again.

So behold...the moron gallery of your local concert venue:

1. The "Back in the day" fan. This guy is usually a portly guy in his late 40's to early 60's who is the owner of a ragged old tour shirt that he bought 25+ years ago. Invariably, his quest to slur conversation at you will begin with some permutation of the phrase "Boy I saw these guys way back in _____ at the ____ arena. Boy what a show! Of course you probably weren't even born yet UH HUK HUK HUK." These fans are very peculiar in that their fandom of the band in question seems to ebb and flow with the band's radio profile. When "Run to the Hills" was first on the charts, this dude was all about it. He probably started a Clive Burr mailing list or some shit. But here we are almost 30 years later and I bet he couldn't name who the hell that 3rd guitarist on the stage is, and holy hell, who's that ugly dude playing drums! Another one of this guy's favorite phrases is, without fail, "Wow, these guys are still together!" AVOID

2. The leather-skinned groupie-wannabe. This is an older woman with skin that'd even make present-day Ric Flair stop for a sec and just go "daaaaaamn." Usually clad in the standard issue way-too-revealing camisole, wrinklified tattoos and jeans, this lady thinks she's STILL the hottest ticket in town. With her mouth-breather husband in tow, she walks with an ill-deserved assuredness everywhere she goes. She couldn't name one song by the band you're about to see 30 years ago and she'll be damned if she can now. She wasn't a groupie then, but she damn sure wants you to believe she was. Can usually be seen buying mixed drinks or beers with a pre-loaded Visa debit card and stumbling to her car laughing maniacally after the show.

3. The group of barely legal to drink girls looking for an excuse to get drunk. This is one phenomenon I never can understand...people who need an EVENT to go to in order to get 3-sheeted. Why not go to the bar? Failing that, why not just sit at home on your couch and get fuckin' hosed? Why would you shell out all the ridiculous Ticketbastard fees and buy tickets to a concert you don't even care about, just so you can pay 5 dollars a beer and dance like a moron to songs you've never heard of? Furthermore, why would you take away the opportunity for a REAL fan to buy some tickets? These are questions that will forever go unanswered.

4. "FREEBIRD" guy. Enough said. Permission to kill on sight.

5. Overly talkative guy. This guy can't get enough of conversing with you, and what luck! He's seated directly next to you and as such, escape is impossible. Popular phrases include, but are not limited to:

"Why you here alone!? No girrrrl friend!? Huh!?"

"Dude this concert is going to ROCK! I'm so pumped! Are you pumped!? Fuck yeah!"

"Man I love this song! Man, hey, hey, dude! Dude! I LOVE THIS SONG!"

"What're you doing after the show, wanna go have something to drink?" (Not creepy at all. At all.)

6. The "Let us in" fans. Without fail, before every show, when the doors are not yet open, the amassed crowd becomes restless for no reason whatsoever. Like a group of conspiring captives plotting their escape from a hellish prison camp, these loudmouthed pricks can't wait to let the security team and event staff have it.

"Psh, look at em, they're just standing there! Not doin' nothin! Let us in, man, we wanna hear the show!"

"Haha, we should like totally just rush the gate, they'd HAVE to let us in then."

"Dude it was supposed to open at like...6:30 and it's 6:33. Fuck this is bullshit, I hate this place."

"It's like this every time, man. I swear. We pay all this money to come here and they can't even open the gates on time. I bet they do it just to screw with us."

There's also usually one or two absolute frigging troglodytes who start a "let us in!" chant, thus proving themselves unsuitable to reproduce.

Meanwhile the rest of us semi-reasonable people are facepalming faster than you can say Captain Picard. I give security teams at concerts a lot of shit under my breath because most of them are legitimately micropenised assholes who failed police academy, but if I had to deal with these morons all the time, I'd get pissed off too. They just make the horde of fans outside look bad. Usually when I go to a concert, I literally don't utter a single word to anyone from the moment I go inside till I get home later. Why should I?

7. The CD Player. I call them this because their expectation is to go in, hear the songs the exact way they are on the album and then go home. They get horrendously pissed if this expectation is not met. True story:

I was in line for the Fleetwood Mac concert in May of 2009. Behind me were two older ladies, discussing the upcoming show. The first one says "I hope if they play Big Love or Go Insane they don't do those re-worked versions. I wanna hear it like it is on the CD." The second lady enthusiastically agreed.

That's about as close as I've ever come to physical violence at a concert. You don't want to hear Lindsey Buckingham absolutely tear the place apart with one of the most mindblowing single-performer nylon string guitar performances in rock history and would rather hear the original synth-heavy version which is passable at best? The fuck outta here with that shit. This type of fan is liable to complain about extended bass solos, drum solos, lead singer interactions with the crowd/raps, or reworked guitar solos. It's perhaps the most puzzling of all the fan types. Why are you even going to the concert? Because you like spending money so you can stare at a Titantron like a dipshit?

MAIDEN VOYAGE: Entry #4

So much for my picture post; this laptop may just self destruct if I try that so I may have to wait until Wednesday evening to put up any photos.

If they ever wrote a children's book about our day yesterday it would be titled Baby's First Driving Experience in Chicago. Our plan was simple: drive to a restaurant in downtown Chicago, eat lunch, then venture to the lakeshore to visit a couple parks and the zoo. Things started okay enough. We got from the southern burbs up to downtown. I even managed to park securely in a ramp on my first try, something I can never seem to do in Minneapolis even. We walked down and ate at Pizzeria Uno, a restaurant recommended to me by a native Chicagoan. The pizza was delicious and super filling. After snapping a few photos I urged us to get going, as few things in the world make me more apprehensive than city driving. Especially when you're driving what is essentially the largest domestic passenger sedan on the market.

We hit the freeway once again but due to a couple of navigational errors made by my helmswoman in the passenger seat, we wound up in the wrong place. A very, very wrong place. For all my apprehension driving downtown, I soon remembered the kind of apprehension I like even less: city driving in horrendous neighborhoods. Urban decay of every variety, open containers of booze being drunk in the streets. Panhandlers walking through rows of cars asking for change. Groups of young men in those dress-size white T's standing on the corner, perhaps sitting on a package. Rows of boarded up low-rises surrounding weedy courtyards. Perhaps if I were Jimmy McNulty I wouldn't have been quite so smacked by the whole affair, but as it was, I wanted to get the fuck out of there and fast.

Luckily we found our way eventually and headed up the lake shore on US Highway 41. It took us a long time, and forced us through many traffic snarls but we made it up to Lincoln Park. By the time we got there the zoo was closed. Rush hour traffic had ensnared the city like a swarm of god damn fire ants and the trip back began absolutely horribly. Short version is that we wound up on some kind of detour through Lower Wacker Dr. and stuck in rush hour traffic right in the damn middle of Chicago at 5:30 PM. At that point I decided I'd had enough for the day. I had to be man enough to know when to throw the towel in and live to fight another day.

Suffice to say it was some time before I managed to get out of there, no closer to the freeway I sought. The only way I managed to get out was to go back the way I came on 41, retracing my whole entire route back to the hotel. By the time we got there I felt horrible; my stomach rolling and turning from the cumulative effects of the day's food. But, the other member of my party was hungry, so we went to a local Greek place (staffed entirely by Mexicans...strange) and got some dinner. It warmed my heart that WWE Raw was on the TV and all the employees were studiously watching it. The guy cleaning the floors literally would watch and only do his work during commercials.

The food was fantastic but I couldn't even eat my Gyro (which the woman ordering in front of us annoyingly called a "guy-row") because I felt like such shit. We had to go to the local Target to get some drinks and supplies afterwards, and finally I was able to lie down at the hotel. I put my Gyro on the nightstand and vowed to eat it soon. After lying down for a while I felt better and managed to put it away. It was astoundingly good. There was more meat on the sonofabitch than there was pita to encircle it. Once I'd finished it though, it was time for sleep.

Now we're gearing up to head out of here. We're going back to Madison, staying one additional night there, and then going home Wednesday. I remain optimistic despite my Chicago fail yesterday. Next time I will be more prepared. Actually next time I'll take the fucking train.

MAIDEN VOYAGE: Entry #3

Now that my hearing has mostly returned, I can write this ish down...

So yesterday went from being shitty to being awesome in a short time. We started out by leaving Madison after some consternation about where to find a grocery store nearby. We just got some drinks from a gas station and headed out on US highway 12 towards Chicago. I ate Taco Hell for the second time in my entire life. It had been over 2 years since I even set foot in one, and that was for relief from what I'll succinctly call an intestinal civil war.

We headed down through some nice pastoral areas towards the Illinois border, but once we hit Illinois, I learned in time two things:

1. Google maps is smarter than me and I should not try to modify the routes it picks for me

and

2. Just because a highway is marked as a US highway on a map is NO GUARANTEE that it will not be 80 miles of stoplights and 40 mph speed zones.

What resulted was what should have been a relatively short trip being turned into a long, droning journey, during which I probably was averaging a walloping 15 miles per gallon. Winding our way down highway 12 into Chicago, we then went south on US Highway 45 towards the hotel. All said and done it was damn near 4 PM when we rolled into the place. My legs and back were killing me from the constant stopping and starting/stressful drive.

The hotel was overrun with people also there for Iron Maiden. Unshaven, long haired geeks like me were just about everywhere, all speaking excitedly and carrying Irish suitcases of cheap beer. We quickly got moving, getting ready to go out and grab a bite before the concert.

We ate at a nearby Asian fusion restaurant which provided us with some delicious fare at reasonable prices. The waiter was truly excellent and brought us the food in a hurry. I ate way too much too fast though, and worried of intestinal distress at the show. We reached the parking lot at the arena exactly as they were opening it for parking. We got a killer parking space near the gate, but wound up having to wait an hour to get inside. The funniest part about it for me was that there was a female line and a male line for pat down searches. The male line was about a quarter of a mile long, and I could count the female line on two hands. I forgot my camera in the car and by the time I realized cameras were permitted, I had already gone inside and could not re enter. I snapped some photos on my phone, but they are horse shit. My only hope is to find some photos taken by people in attendance that night.

After we got in we managed to feed the giant corporate monster as dutiful American peons should by buying overpriced t-shirts and a 5 dollar bottle of Coke. Just writing that last part makes me want to absolutely puke. We settled into our seats and had to wait for another hour before the show would begin. The day was hot, and this is an outdoor venue. Still, our seats were pretty good. The only downside is there was a speaker rack that obscured whoever was standing stage left unless they walked to the front of the stage. With Maiden this wasn't a problem but John Petrucci was elusive during the opening act.

Finally the concert got underway. Dream Theater played about a 45 minute set (!) and did a great job. They really need to get a rhythm player though, as Petrucci's insistence on filling all the gaps in the mix himself really made for some difficult listening at times. They predictably closed with Pull Me Under and left the stage. After a long period of preparation, the stage was set for Maiden's appearance. The customary Doctor Doctor cover opened things up (I'm glad I'm not the only one who loves the shit out of that song). Below is the setlist for the show, in order. I actually had written it pretty much from memory, but I checked it against a list I found online (I love you, internet) and realized I'd switched some songs around.

The Wicker Man

Ghost Of The Navigator

Wrathchild

El Dorado

Dance Of Death

The Reincarnation Of Benjamin Breeg

These Colours Don't Run

Blood Brothers

Wildest Dreams

No More Lies

Brave New World

Fear Of The Dark

Iron Maiden

Encore:

The Number of the Beast

Hallowed Be Thy Name

Running Free

As you can see, shit was heavy on stuff from Brave New World, Dance of Death, and Matter of Life and Death. Only a few classics in there. I'm not going to be one of those ass holes who bitches like mad about the setlist. Iron Maiden are grown ass men and can play whatever the hell they want. I actually really like the Brave New World album personally.

Bruce introduced "Blood Brothers" as a tribute of sorts to Ronnie James Dio, a guy who he called a "mentor." The crowd broke into a huge DIO DIO DIO chant at that, and an absolutely epic performance of the song ensued. The whole place was frigging into it.

One notable thing to observe as well was that they let Janick do a lot more shredding than usual at this show. If you watch the Flight 666 and Rock in Rio concerts, he seems to be relegated to rhythm guitar and 'sound effects' a lot (i.e. pick scrapes, harmonics, etc.) But here he was nailing a lot more solos and played almost all the recurring melody lines in Blood Brothers and other songs.

Just an outstanding concert. Mind blowing musicianship from top to bottom, and you'd expect nothing less. I already heard people bitching about the setlist in the lobby at breakfast this morning. What song did they want to hear? You guessed it. It's not that Run to the Hills is a bad song, but let's be real. The band has like 15 fucking albums worth of songs they can pick from. Don't you think they enjoy busting out album cuts now and then, and not just playing the same shit over and over? I sure would if I were in a band like that.

Tonight I'll probably do a 'picture post' with some photos from the trip so far, so stay tuned.

THE MAIDEN VOYAGE: Entry #2

We departed Minnesota yesterday from Red Wing (where we had dropped off the cat and spent our first night), heading south to La Crosse. We stopped in Winona to pick up a few supplies we forgot to bring (namely shampoo and deodorant....fuuuuuuuuuck). That was the first time I'd been in a K-Mart since our trip to South Dakota last year wherein the aforementioned mart was the only place nearby to get some new batteries for our CD player.

It was an agreeably pleasant and uneventful drive from there onward to Madison. The XM radio worked just as I thought it would to pass the time. There were only two points of consternation:

1. Sometimes I'd lose my signal if we went under some big trees or next to a big bluff.

2. The DJ on the Boneyard insinuated Ronnie James Dio sang on Headless Cross, thus proving her daft and unworthy of the job.

Once we got to Madison we checked into the hotel and headed out for lunch. 3 years ago when we came here for vacation we ate at a mind blowing Chinese place on a side street near the university area. So we went there again, finding it basically from memory, and had a fantastic meal with tons of leftovers for later. Then we headed back, intending to return to the State Street area in the evening when things cooled down. I passed some time watching the History Channel. The whole time I thought of that Adam Sandler bit on Weekend Update where he's supposed to be a travel reporter but he spends his whole Greek vacation in the hotel. "I'd seen Bull Durham before, but....never in Greece."

We eventually did head back, but most of the stores were closed by the time we got there. We had some ice cream from the Chocolate Shoppe (another place we ate at last time) and walked to the capitol building for some photos. There were a bunch of guys and gals, all with a bad case of the Umbles (stumblin', fumblin', tumblin') from a few too many High Lifes literally playing golf in the middle of the road. No police presence whatsoever but then again this is Sconnie. For some reason the part that made me laugh was that they were actually wearing golf clothes and golf spikes for this, replete with sweater vests and golf gloves.

We headed back after that, intending to get lots of sleep before heading out today. Presently I'm gathering our things for the 170 miles from here to the Windy City.

OH WAIT IRON MAIDEN IS TONIGHT!

O

M

G

And john petrucci