I know what you’re thinking. Hell is not a real thing. Like religion, it’s nothing but a manmade construct that manipulates people into submission and acquiescence by using some imaginary fear of infinite repercussions. But for the purpose here, let’s use the literary definition of the term and pretend there’s some dark, terrifying subterranean prison where deceased “spirits” are forced to endure excruciating pain and suffering for eternity.

So, yeah, let’s send the hunters there.

A practice in premium hypocrisy, hunting is not a sport, hobby, or recreational activity. It is sanctioned murder, and the participants who flash that big, toothy smile while yanking up the lifeless head of their “prize” are no different from the psychopathic serial killers riding the full-body adrenaline rush of their slay.

For hunters, there’s a nagging need to control the uncontrollable by exerting power over a population that never even knew it was participating in the game. To steal lives for your own sense of satisfaction is weak, spineless, and blatantly showcases your impotence. There are far too many holes in that damaged, leaky ship to plug, and another stuffed trophy head above the mantle is not the caulk required to fix them.

But what about the heart-pounding thrill of the kill? That big dopamine dump? All your problems at home and at work magically disappear for those precious few seconds after that bullet makes impact. You’ve done something worthwhile. You successfully decimated a family because the mother who ventured off to forage for food for her young is now lying in a pool of her own blood. All thanks to you and your pathetic need for validation.

If the rage and anger are building to a boil, there are far healthier outlets. Maybe go for a run or *GASP* read a book! But consciously pulling a trigger simply to wield dominion over others, lost inside the haze of some misguided sense of superiority, is not the answer. Why add to an already aggressive, angry, and vengeful society by participating in an act that relishes the extermination of the blameless?

What if that rifle-mounted laser scope was redirected? Maybe a mirror is the only barometer you should have packed in that bundle of murder accessories. That way, you could take a long, contemplative look while you’re so busy loading that weapon and decide who the world is truly better without.

Adolescence Interrupted