However, I was extremely disappointed with the way it all turned out. I would like to point out some of the inaccuracies of Randall Roberts' reporting. He refers to our videos as "kill videos" rather than hunting videos. Those of us in the industry never call them "kill videos"; in fact, Terry is quoted as saying he prefers using the word "harvest" to the more vulgar "kill," because the latter term "kind of demeans what we're doing." Roberts also refers to our videos as "hunting snuff films," which compares what we do to the most violent and disturbing format ever suggested in the dark underworld of the adult-film industry.
Within the story Roberts makes a point to portray the editors as guys who never leave the studio and are incapable of filming the hunts. Over the last four years, I have filmed several successful hunts in the field, and I along with Matt are the only two editors to have actually experienced the hunt from all three aspects: as editor, cameraman and hunter.
As we are both non-hunters, I think that Matt and I could have provided a much-needed insight to the complete story if only we were given the opportunity.
Editor/Videographer, Drury Outdoors
And the deer and the antelope play: Boy, just when I thought man's inhumanity to animals couldn't get any worse, along come the Drury Brothers to prove me wrong.
I thank Randall Roberts for bringing this vile and disgusting shit to light, but I was sick to my stomach when I finished reading. If you believe in reincarnation, surely you will agree that in the next life these creeps will not come face to face with a videocam, but rather the wrong end of a hunter's rifle. And that goes for their whole sick entourage, including Justin Dicenzo, the so-called composer who scored this crap. Being one myself, I'm ashamed to attach that title to this poor, hard-up kid.
Somewhere along the line, like in the minds of the people committing such terrible atrocities in Iraq, there must be a light bulb that goes off in the back of their heads, saying: "Whoa, this is fucking wrong."
And when it comes time at the gates of the Big Hunting Lodge In Heaven for God to decide who's allowed in, I don't think there'll be any room at the Inn for the Drurys.
Theater Columnist, EXP Magazine
Skies are not cloudy all day: Be careful: The liberal press may take your membership card. As a longtime RFT reader, lifetime hunter and Mizzou J-School grad (not many can claim that combination) I expected the worst when I saw the cover. Imagine my surprise when I read the story and detected not a hint of liberal bias against a pastime which gets scant attention, unless PETA is trying to equate it to the Holocaust or a wacko in Wisconsin decides to shoot hunters instead of deer.
In my opinion you caught the essence of hunting without playing the "Bubba" card which I fully expected from the RFT. The anti-hunting crowd for some reason sees nothing wrong with letting someone else snuff the cattle and chickens they eat, but then gets all hypocritical by dissing those of us who take matters into our own hands. My camouflage hat is off to you for not doing a hatchet job on them for the sake of making a juicy story.
Long Live the Prince
Had he only been white: The article by Mike Seely on Prince Joe Henry ["Prince Joe's Lament," November 17] was timely and informative. Recognition of black baseball legends like Henry are few and far between. Henry's many contributions to the national pastime have been swept under the rug and forgotten. Now in his golden years, he suffers from financial neglect by the same organization that barred him from the game in the prime of his life. We will never know the quality of life he would have had if he had been a white ballplayer.
We need more investigative articles like Seely's that reveal the living conditions of men who played before the color barrier fell. I am thankful to Bob Mitchell for his efforts, and the Baseball Assistance Team (BAT) for considering his case, but why the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City isn't lending a helping hand is the bigger question.
In last week's feature story, "Bambi Snuff Films," we incorrectly identified the station that carries Dream Season. It airs on the Outdoor Channel, not the Outdoor Life Network.
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