Feb 5, 2021
If there is one thing I can’t stand, it is government overregulation of cryptozoological creatures.
There are actually several things I can’t stand — someone putting an empty steak sauce bottle back in the refrigerator, irresponsible dog owners and people with Facebook medical degrees, just to name a few.
This week, though, it is government overregulation of cryptozoological creatures, specifically Bigfoot.
Regular readers of this column know I am a citizen of the city that proudly hosts the annual Western North Carolina (WNC) Bigfoot Festival during non-plague years.
Those same readers may even recall I performed as Bigfoot’s stand in a few times, climbing into the suit for both promotional and educational efforts, such as the non-award-winning documentary “Bigfoot Tells Fifth-Graders about Trees.”
That’s probably not the name of it, but I was only on set for about 20 minutes before I overheated in the suit and left.
Netflix might have it.
Those same readers, it appears, have mixed feelings about ongoing Bigfoot coverage.
“Love your stuff,” Loretta wrote in an email last week. “The Monkey Reports were super. Bigfoot, not so much…”
My friend Susan, though, alerted me to the most recent Bigfoot-related news to tackle.
“I feel certain you will cover this more thoroughly,” she wrote in a message that included a link to NPR.
There are actually several things I can’t stand — someone putting an empty steak sauce bottle back in the refrigerator, irresponsible dog owners and people with Facebook medical degrees, just to name a few.
This week, though, it is government overregulation of cryptozoological creatures, specifically Bigfoot.
Regular readers of this column know I am a citizen of the city that proudly hosts the annual Western North Carolina (WNC) Bigfoot Festival during non-plague years.
Those same readers may even recall I performed as Bigfoot’s stand in a few times, climbing into the suit for both promotional and educational efforts, such as the non-award-winning documentary “Bigfoot Tells Fifth-Graders about Trees.”
That’s probably not the name of it, but I was only on set for about 20 minutes before I overheated in the suit and left.
Netflix might have it.
Those same readers, it appears, have mixed feelings about ongoing Bigfoot coverage.
“Love your stuff,” Loretta wrote in an email last week. “The Monkey Reports were super. Bigfoot, not so much…”
My friend Susan, though, alerted me to the most recent Bigfoot-related news to tackle.
“I feel certain you will cover this more thoroughly,” she wrote in a message that included a link to NPR.
I initially figured it was either a way to make a donation for a tote bag or instructions on how to donate my car, but it turned out to be a Morning Edition blurb about an Oklahoma lawmaker who introduced a bill to establish a Bigfoot hunting season.
“The measure would require hunting licenses, and comes with a $25,000 reward for Bigfoot’s capture,” NPR’s intro said. “The legislation is aimed at increasing tourism near the Ouachita Mountains.”
Immediately, I stopped doing real work and began extensive research into this misguided attempt by the government to regulate Bigfoot.
Let me be clear: I am not anti-government. I haven’t stormed anything in weeks. I pay my taxes, eventually. I get out and vote if it isn’t raining too hard.
But there are some things government has no business sticking its nose in and Bigfoot is one of them. Yes, admittedly, our mayor declared Bigfoot the official animal of Marion, N.C. but that was purely ceremonial. No one, as far as I know, wanted to issue a state license to hunt down Bigfoot.
“The measure would require hunting licenses, and comes with a $25,000 reward for Bigfoot’s capture,” NPR’s intro said. “The legislation is aimed at increasing tourism near the Ouachita Mountains.”
Immediately, I stopped doing real work and began extensive research into this misguided attempt by the government to regulate Bigfoot.
Let me be clear: I am not anti-government. I haven’t stormed anything in weeks. I pay my taxes, eventually. I get out and vote if it isn’t raining too hard.
But there are some things government has no business sticking its nose in and Bigfoot is one of them. Yes, admittedly, our mayor declared Bigfoot the official animal of Marion, N.C. but that was purely ceremonial. No one, as far as I know, wanted to issue a state license to hunt down Bigfoot.
After some blowback from the Bigfoot community, the legislator who introduced the bill, State Rep. Justin Humphrey, clarified his intent to The Oklahoman newspaper.
“I want to be really clear that we are not going to kill Bigfoot,” he said. “We are going to trap a live Bigfoot. We are not promoting killing Bigfoot. We are promoting hunting Bigfoot, trying to find evidence of Bigfoot.”
Humphrey insists it’s all in good fun and a way to get people to buy a Bigfoot hunting license to carry in their wallets or hang on their walls, but I envision a scenario like this:
“Hello, boys. I’m Warden Simmons with the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation. How y’all doing today?”
“Uh…fine, sir. You?”
“Not too bad. What you boys got on the back of the truck there?”
“We got us a Bigfoot.”
“Yeah, that’s a nice one, too. He must go 7-and-a-half, maybe 8 feet. I’m going to need to see your Oklahoma-issued Bigfoot hunting license.”
“Do what now?”
“Bigfoot hunting license. You can’t go around hunting Bigfoot without a state-issued Bigfoot hunting license. Where do you think you are, North Carolina?”
“You mean we have to throw him back?”
“Oh, yeah. And I’m writing you a ticket, too. It’s going to be $250 plus court costs. You can pay it to the magistrate on duty at the Ouachita Mountains Tourism Development Authority. Y’all have a good day and remember: Oklahoma is OK – except when it comes to hunting Bigfoot without a license.”
Scott Hollifield is editor/GM of The McDowell News in Marion, N.C. and a humor columnist.
“I want to be really clear that we are not going to kill Bigfoot,” he said. “We are going to trap a live Bigfoot. We are not promoting killing Bigfoot. We are promoting hunting Bigfoot, trying to find evidence of Bigfoot.”
Humphrey insists it’s all in good fun and a way to get people to buy a Bigfoot hunting license to carry in their wallets or hang on their walls, but I envision a scenario like this:
“Hello, boys. I’m Warden Simmons with the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation. How y’all doing today?”
“Uh…fine, sir. You?”
“Not too bad. What you boys got on the back of the truck there?”
“We got us a Bigfoot.”
“Yeah, that’s a nice one, too. He must go 7-and-a-half, maybe 8 feet. I’m going to need to see your Oklahoma-issued Bigfoot hunting license.”
“Do what now?”
“Bigfoot hunting license. You can’t go around hunting Bigfoot without a state-issued Bigfoot hunting license. Where do you think you are, North Carolina?”
“You mean we have to throw him back?”
“Oh, yeah. And I’m writing you a ticket, too. It’s going to be $250 plus court costs. You can pay it to the magistrate on duty at the Ouachita Mountains Tourism Development Authority. Y’all have a good day and remember: Oklahoma is OK – except when it comes to hunting Bigfoot without a license.”
Scott Hollifield is editor/GM of The McDowell News in Marion, N.C. and a humor columnist.
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