This piece is dedicated to those who are bored, thus spending evenings watching “Finding Bigfoot” on the Animal Planet Network. The BFRO team behind the show is not working for me. They stink as much as common charlatans in the woods.
Irrefutable Evidence of Sasquatch
Upon receiving the Eight Billionth award for a man not believing in Sasquatch, I will provide my acceptance speech….with a few exceptions.
This is embarrassing, yet personally rewarding. Officially, I am out of the closet. I don’t believe in Sasquatch. There. Are you happy? (Applause from existing hairy, but not that hairy bipeds…. and grizzly quadrupeds clapping) That makes a little sense.
I have a gathering of people I wish to thank for opening my door called reality, sanity, and get your head out of your ass, you idiot. It was a sturdy door for thirty years, but that door made of particle board and ten cent penny nails has officially fallen from Squatch Land, or as many now call it “Sasquatchlandia”. My beliefs have crumbled like this hard taco disgracefully falling upon a carpet on this day of reckoning. Sadly, truth is much harder than fiction.
Before the music starts, I will, with great brevity and furious anger, thank those crushing my imaginary dreams that a kind and gentle giant roaming the woods of the great Northwest could possibly exist. They are the Bigfoot Research Organization (BFRO), or now referred to as the Big Fraudulent Research Organization. Although you are disgraceful to those who drive cars and pay taxes, I thank you for keeping me and others from staring out of our heavily wooded northwestern hillside just to catch a glimpse of something that no longer exists. Now, my nephews and nieces wishing to stay in the Sasquatch Guest Room (something I once took pride in designing), overlooking that hillside, will no longer have nightmares, and will just enjoy the view. I thank you for that. Good luck. Stay bipeds. (more awkward applause, because the crowd, much like a shark smelling blood from a mile away, can equally sense the smelliest of odors in the first row……sarcasm)
The real story:
At a confused and influential age, (that means from the time of conception until now) I have imagined and dreamed about something existing which didn’t include my six older brothers and six older sisters. Something more exciting, less painful, and perhaps a breakthrough in science.
Let’s talk logic. Forgive me, because I’m not really used to the word logic. I am familiar with the terms, Anthropology and Cryptozoology. These are the studies regarding specimens known to exist and those we wish to exist. The late and great, Grover Krants, a professor at Thee! Washington State University, at the very least, provided scientific knowledge of how this Gigantopithecus could exist. It wasn’t a joke. It was scientific, and further, a bit intriguing. This hairy biped could roam the earth smelling the dandelions and hiding in caves while tricking us all to believe he or she may or may not continue to stroll through areas humans have infested.
We strive for honesty, and in this world, there is very little. But, evidently, little proof is better than none at all. This is when we grow up. We try to believe in things such as Bigfoot and baseball’s designated hitter. Neither will ever exist because of two reasons. Sports writers won’t acknowledge one and the other simultaneously. That statement sounds as cloudy as all the pictures, film strips, drawings and voice recordings combined regarding the elusive Sasquatch. (I can’t believe I have to use a capital “S” when spelling it. It’s simply ridiculous. Yet, not quite as ridiculous as the Five Sasquatchions making money off of people watching Animal Planet.
These people make entertaining the notion of the unknown deem laughable, and have demolished my fantasy of having a Sasquatch over for Thanksgiving. It’s just not going to happen.
Myth: The people hosting this show on the “Animal Planet” in the woods maintain some sort of credibility.
Fact: They don’t.
Myth: They set the bar high for those who wish to discover items such as the moon or the Pacific Ocean.
Fact: The only bar they set is at a bar.
Myth: Definitive evidence……something that crunches in the darkness does not mean a Sasquatch is arriving for dinner, even though he or she may be hungry.
Fact: Disputing and debating a frozen leaf falling from a tree can only be described as irrefutable casual evidence.
Fact: The Joke is on us.
My wife and dogs were convinced the other night our woods were filled with squatches. After detailed investigation, our deck was just covered with falling leaves and crap.
Go on with your lives, and stop trying to tease me.
Some of my favorite memories growing up would be when my family would take trips in the old Ford crew cab to Seattle for Thanksgiving. Most of the time we would get outside of Cle Elum and someone would have to take a leak. My dad, who was in the State Patrol, had a key to all the weigh stations throughout the state, which to us was our own private rest area. The Cascades, to a 7 or 8 year old is definitely Sasquatch country. I vividly remember thinking that the mountains themselves looked like a sleeping Sasquatch or some other massive being, and for some reason it freaked me out a little. We would pull over to an old abandoned weigh station well past dark, where my dad would go unlock the door for my sister or my mom, while my two older brothers and I would wait. These breaks were welcomed by everyone because it meant that my mom and dad would stop singing this old Christmas song “Christmas is a comin’ and the geese are getting fat”, which I believe was an old staple by a great Norwegian named Lawrence Welk, or so I was led to believe. It usually only took a moment, but my Asshole older brother (the capitalization is not an accident) would start up with some folklore about the Great Northwestern Sasquatch. How the Indians viewed him as the Great Spirit in the woods, that would count coup on the tribes at will, especially the young braves. Then would come the, “Shhhhhhh……. did you… did you hear that…… Oh boy, I wonder if…. What was that?” Then he would wait. The panic and fear would begin to grow until I began to see flashes in the woods or begin to hear things coming from the woods. Everyone would be silent, except for our heavy breathing, for good couple of minutes until he would start again, “WHOA, did you see that!?!? I saw something out there, whatever it was it was big…..” Then he would wait some more. The silence would build along with my heart rate. The Asshole would wait until he saw that the rest of my family was getting close to finishing up, then he would spring the grand finale on us. He would leave the truck to go check it out; leaving two gullible suckers to sit in a cold quiet truck while he would go near the woods and then somehow disappear just long enough for us to really get worried about him, even if we did hate his guts. Sure as shit, he would pop up right next to window with a loud scream right on cue. Again, sure as shit, I would start crying and he would climb back in the truck, laughing his ass off. That is until my dad would come back and chew him out in his best Mormon language, referring to him as a “knothead” then he’d throw in a few “dog-gone you little… I oughtta” and “don’t you ever”. What’s funny is that my dad yelling at Asshole always made me feel better. It was like my dad was my brother’s own version of Bigfoot. He was scared to death of him, which I loved and would promptly stir up a few more tears just keep my dad going.
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