Hello...my name is...er...forgive me as the season approaches I don't even remember who I am. Everything I do is affected by my addiction, my disorder, my disease, my habit!

Now I am hooked, addicted, unable to concetrate on my work. Even when the season is closed I find myself immersed in horn porn. I tell myself I am reading the magazines because of thearticles but really I am lusting after the pictures. But alas, they give me no satisfaction...

The anxiety is disabling. As elk season draws nearI find myselfusing blow to carry me through to September. Yes, I am blowing my calls, and feeling the tremors of the drug called anticipation...

It is a never ending problem...When Elk season ends I start chasing Whitetails. It is true I am not faithful to just one species. That is part of theissue you see. I know why my wife left me, I understand completely...

The truth is I am hopelessly strung out from season to season...October finds me huffing the heavenlyfragrance of a timber that ismorphing to a differentshade of colorby the day...Expect no production out of me in the month of November, don't even ask me to go to funeral in November; for you will find me as high as a kite all of November.

I am just the shell of the man I once was...If only I hadn't taken that first shot...If only I hadn't been so close that that buck and felt that rush...If only I had not felt the intoxication of that moment, I might be a wealthy man today...

Hey wait a minute...I had money once...all I did was work....it was awful...Where is my elk call!!!!