It’s time for The Nest’s newest Wednesday feature Random Image Inspiration, where some picture someone uploaded to that giant common photo album known as the internet will help inspire today’s post. If you want to see how I’ll be choosing that image, you can feel free to check out the rules I outlined in RII’s debut last week (I know you won’t click on the link, but Sparky’s rules of blogging demand that I insert as many gratuitous links to past posts as possible).
Even though I’m writing this post the same day it goes live, I went ahead and found the winning image on Monday morning. This week’s random numbers….
11, 55, 17, 19
The 11th post in my Reader that morning was this one by Marilyn.
The 55th word in that post is “but”
The 17th word in that post is “decided”
I braced myself for that combo spitting out a bunch of politically themed images… and that’s exactly what it did. But it seems I got lucky in that regard! Or did I?
Putting “but decided” into Google Images brought this up as the 19th result…
Who says blogging can’t teach you anything. I never knew of this tale’s existence. The short story “The Most Dangerous Game” was written by Richard Connell way back in 1924, and was adapted into a movie eight years later. It tells the story of one Sanger Rainsford, who falls off a yacht and ends up swimming to a desolate island that just happens to be inhabited by a Russian aristocrat, General Zaroff, who is so bored that he gets his rocks off hunting the poor saps who wash up on his atoll. Talk about someone living out Fantasy Island…
So Rainsford must spend the next three days outwitting Zaroff, his henchman, and a pack of hounds on the hunter’s turf. It’s a grueling challenge that requires every bit of Rainsford’s wits to survive, but he comes out on top and personally ends the General’s cruel game. YAY for our hero Mr. Rainsford! Wow, whatcha gonna do to celebrate escaping from that hellish nightmare that no person should ever have to go through?
You see, “Game” was written by Connell as a morality play on multiple levels… and Rainsford just had the tables flipped on him for once, that’s all. Rainsford is a big game hunter and was in fact on his way to such a lopsided hunt of Amazonian jaguars when he went overboard and wound up discovering what it’s like to be the prey for once. While that shit’s still going on in these days where people will pay large sums of money to kill an unsuspecting animal who isn’t even given their own weapon… back in the 1920’s before Sarah McLaughlan came along it was truly all the rage. Gee, how uncivilized humans were a century ago…
Rainsford, in fact, views animals the same way every trophy hunter with more money than common sense does. They have no feelings, no human ability to reason, no soul. They act purely on instinct like little robots on four legs. What’s wrong with popping off a few rounds in their flanks and watching them die for the thrill of it? I mean, it’s not they can suffer as they bleed out since they have no feelings, right? Killing things is so much fun, is it not?
So while the reader seems to be led to root for Rainsford to survive the savage General Zaroff’s game… I think I would have sided with the Russian. Zaroff’s reason for hunting men who end up stranded on his island, other than insanity from too much exposure to the sun’s rays, is that men have a reasoning ability that animals do not possess which makes humans more interesting and “fun” to use as prey. If Russia is really a land full of fluffy, ear tufted squirrels… I find it hard to believe the General really thinks animals can’t fucking think. Anyone who’s watched a squirrel try to solve the puzzle of how to get in their birdfeeder knows that there’s more than just termites buzzing around in those tiny little brains…
But if Zaroff wants to subject big game hunters to their own unfair contest… I say more power to him. And I hope he bumps off a lot of idiots in those silly white safari hats. Seriously, I don’t make a lot of judgments on people and their views because I’m really that tolerant… but if you kill animals for sport, you completely suck. And I hope your version of the afterlife involves a lot of eternal running and hiding and staring down the barrel of a shotgun from your own personal General Zaroff. You, Big Game Hunter, are indeed the scum of the earth…
animals sure can think… and they can make plans… and the humanity will see that as soon as we conquer the world…
I hope they keep me around to watch the fight for power between the squirrels and the other animals…
I can’t believe I’m saying this…but I vote for the crazy Russian [face smack].
Really. Talk about a story where I’d feel no sympathy for the main character. Have another sip of vodka, General..
Vodka? Now you’re talking.
I \agree. I understand needing to eat and if killing an animal enables you to eat rather than starve, you are doing what every creature does: survive. But killing so you can mount the head on the wall? Or the antlers? That’s sickening and humiliating. Why they aren’t ashamed of themselves, I don’t know. If the animals could shoot back, that would at least make it “sporting.”
I think that was the point Hitchcock was making in “the birds,” by the way. They were tired of being permanent prey animals and decided to get their own back. Good for them!
I had no idea this post was going to go down this road since I’d never heard of that story before. It’s a shame man hasn’t fully matured from his trophy hunting phase yet. Although I don’t like it personally, I’m OK with people staking their claim to the top of the food chain (“Kill it and grill it,” as Ted Nugent would say)… but killing for sport is beyond despicable and shows absolutely zero respect for earth’s creatures.
All of this from a post you wrote on taking pictures of birds in your backyard. This Random Image thing is a rather dangerous game I’m playing myself…
Reblogged this on Serendipity – Seeking Intelligent Life on Earth and commented:
What is sporting about killing a giraffe? It isn’t sporting unless the animal has a weapon and knows how to use it. I can understand hunting to survive, but not trophy hunting.
I once had the misfortune of working for the Administrator of a hospital who was a trophy hunter…..and I don’t mean doctors’ heads when they didn’t cooperate either. He went to Africa on safaris two or three times a year. Very scary and strange person….too bad he didn’t wind up on General Zaroff’s island for a little TOUR.
I’m sure he’d have looked quite cool hanging out on a wall plaque with his safari hat and stethoscope…
I’m on the General’s side too. Shame he didn’t blow that big game murderer away. The only animal one may kill for laughs is the immortal Buster,
And that’s only because Buster can come back and take more abuse. If Buster ever permanently died, I would feel very bad………… maybe.