In my younger days I was quite capable of climbing the local sycamore tree to a lofty position overlooking the terrain. From my high vantage point I was able to see the wiley mossy horns as he ambled thru the thick brush and lush fauna of the native Louisiana swamps. I would admire these animals hours on end while never being detected because of my utter cat-like stealthiness. If per chance an admirable specimaen showed himself a worthy adversary, I would ready myself to perform an ambush of proportions only our savage ancestors ever dreamed about. As I leaped astride the panting beast in all his muscular glory and rode him to the ground in true bull-dog fashion, I would have to ask myself, "Does this really demand it?" After coaxing him to the ground bare handed and examining my worthy, yet weakened adversary, I would then determine whether the Northerners would understand what "demanding it" really means. If the need for food on the table was a pressing issue at the time, I would then, with the mighty twist of my wrists, snap his neck and gently lay him to rest. Long live the beast.

Long live "TDWW". I miss that guy.