Farce of nature

Many times, people come up to me on the street and say, “Excuse me Mr Sam, but does Handsome Dick Manitoba really exist? And is the lead singer of Foghat really called Lance Turnpike? And is Manmountain Dense actually a real live person? And if so, can you recommend a good place to hide for the rest of my life?”

To each and all of these wise-eyed queries my reply, delivered with a knowing smirk, is always the same: “If you have to ask, then you don’t deserve to know.”

About one of the regular stars of this column, however, the cryptic answer could not possibly suffice. I refer to my dear, dear friend Ted Nugent, axeman on both the stage and in the wild, and a figure of such fantastically preposterous proportions that it would be beyond the ken of even a creative genius such as myself, to make him up.

By way of proof, I turn the bulk of this issue’s column over to the musings of the man himself on two subjects close to his heart - rock ‘n’ roll and hunting. For further insights into the mind of the force of nature we call The Fuckin’ Nuge, check out his website at www.tednugent.com and there you will find proof positive that Sam Snort does not speak with forked tongue. Well, at least, not at all the time.

Meantime, here is a taste of what The Fuckin’ Nuge has to say about making it in the music business. Or, as they probably don’t say in the Ballyfermot Rock College: “So ya wanna be a guitarboy, do ya?”

Vulgar Glob

“Step number one – let the cleansing begin,” Ted advises. “I firmly believe that as goes the body goes the spirit, and if I have to abuse my eyes by taking in another vulgar glob of obesity runnin’ amok in America, I think I’m gonna puke. If a person cannot manage their own body and soul better than the blubber infested pigs groveling the streets of this land, then how the hell are they gonna discover the musical beast within? I ask you!

“Live clean and strong. Drive the pitiful demons of shitty food, drugs, alcohol, tobacco and all trends and stupidity from your sacred temple. Eat smart, sleep sound, and have as much safe heterosexual sex as you can possibly arrange. The slower and more intimate the better. Fall in love over and over again and again. Celebrate the flesh by penetrating the spirit within. Know deeply the people in your life. Be extreme. Love extreme. Live extremely good. Extremely care. Dream extreme. Crave extreme.

“Find musicians who share an intense respect for quality of life. Avoid dirty, stoned, disconnected hippies and trendgeeks. If it’s not too late, do not get any body parts pierced or tattooed. Do not colour your hair or get a fashionable haircut. Defy fashion. Defy all things status quo. Concentrate on appreciating you as you are at your best. Celebrate your individualism and let it ring out of your hands through your instrument. Let the big dogs run. Push yourself beyond your normal limits. Challenge your threshold for pain and suffering. Let the music do the talking.

“Shoot as many guns as you can. Master archery. Spend as much time as possible in storms. Climb a mountain. Scale a peak. Traverse a nasty swamp. Listen to the birds and insects. Spend time as high in trees as you can get. Sing with birds. Learn to call crows, ducks, geese, deer, turkeys and varmints. Eat wind and rain and snow. See how close you can get to animals. Ask yourself why you can’t get closer. Get closer. Visit some children’s and old folks’ hospitals. Make them laugh and feel better. Pray to God for their happiness.”

Gutting Squirrels

I hate to interrupt, but attentive readers will note that Ted is going all soppy and Desiderata on us there. Happily, though he soon gets back on track.

“Write a song called UNCLE TED JAMS MAJOR ASS. Send me a copy of your tape. Eat massive BBQ. Scare all whites. Take no shit. Watch and study Braveheart, Schindler’s List, Pearl Habour, Saving Private Ryan, The Battle of the Bulge, The Green Berets, Cool Hand Luke, Bullet, Deliverance and The Patriot over and over again and again. Be sure you know why we cannot go see concerts by Elvis Presley, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Mike Bloomfield, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Canned Heat, Jerry Garcia, Bon Scott, John Belushi, and a whole slew of stupid dead guys. Avoid their deathmarch lifestyles at all costs. Celebrate quality of life, truth, reality, health, a higher level of awareness and the American Dream. Play guitar like ya mean it. Mean it. Spend maximum time around a fire with the ones you love. Celebrate the Spirit of The Wild daily.”

Okay, Ted’s gone a bit mystical on us here, so let’s finish instead with his wholesome advice to a youngster who contacts him on the ‘Ask The Nuge’ part of the site.

“Q. Nuge, I am 13 years old and went squirrel hunting with my uncle. He gutted the squirrels different. He swung them around and then ‘pumped’ the insides out. He never opened the game. Everything came out the ‘back end’. I don’t want to eat the squirrels because I am afraid something could have broke inside and get on the meat (ex. liver). My uncle said it’s unlikely. My dad talked to many experienced hunters and they agree with me. What would you do?

“It sure sounds like a strange field-dressing system to me, but if your uncle eats ’em like that, go for it. I prefer to gut ’em thoroughly, rinse ’em real clean and grill ’em on hot coals. Our new book Kill It & Grill It with our Nugent family squirrel and other game systems. God bless, BloodBrothers, Ted”.

Readers, reckon Moby’s gonna sample The Fuckin’ Nuge any time soon?

Your ever lovin’ Samuel J. Snort Esq