Destroyer: Bigfoot Bait

Posted: January 29, 2011 in paranoid life
Tags: , , ,

(part two of a three part blog series on Dan the Destroyer)

While Vic Neverman might be known primarily as a conspiracy theorist, it is only because the spotlight of my career is on that portion of a larger body of work. Overall, I am a seeker of truth in topics that reside on the outer fringes of normalcy. For example, crypto-zoology… I have hunted the Beast of Bray Road from my safe house in South Milwaukee, I have stunk it up in the cypress swamps of Florida in search of the Skunk Ape, and I have wandered through Texas pastures looking for Chupacabra. During my brief stint living a bohemian existence in Oregon, I pursued the elusive old man of the forest: Big Foot.

With news that Dan the Destroyer was coming to Florida, my mind recently went back to my many adventures along the Columbia River where Dan, the Dude Collective, and I camped and hunted Bigfoot. By hunt, let me clarify, the goal was to find proof. The last thing we wished to achieve was killing, injuring, or capturing a Sasquatch.

While one would think living in Oregon would make Bigfoot expeditions easily accessible, that one would be wrong. Deadly wrong. The problem with Bigfoot is that the greatest frequency of sightings exist in the “no hike” zones of marijuana country. There is so much weed grown in these backwoods of Oregon that the ganja industry has placed numerous heavily armed illegal immigrants throughout the region with direct orders to shoot at anything that moves. Marijuana is big business in the Pacific Northwest and that business is well protected. This is why it is not easy to find a high-frequency Bigfoot zone safe to hike in. It also begs the question: has a Sasquatch ever been gunned down by a weed-watcher? We can only hope the answer is no. Should the answer be yes, no good could come of it as illegal farmers would not bring attention to the facts behind such a kill.

So there is certainly a lot to consider when seeking out an area to hunt Sasquatch. We found the safest region of high-frequency sightings was the Gifford Pinchot National Forest on the Washington side of the Columbia River. Just a few hours from our home of Portland, we found a home base at Panther Creek.

Dude Collective: Dude, Dude, Vic Neverman, Dude, Dan the Destroyer

Allow me to shed some light on the secret society of “manosphers” I refer to as the “Dude Collective”. Our group has been accused of being both anarchists (one of our members is an ardent anti-absolutist, living his life to destroy all absolute concepts) and of being a political organization looking to rule through enlightened despotism. The truth is, there is no one main goal or mission of the Dude Collective. Our political leanings are diverse and the only commonalities are our love of women, beer, and liberty. The history of the Dude Collective is extensive with origins that mixed European masonic tradition with Hamatsa shamanism of the Kwakwaka’wak indigenous peoples of British Columbia. Thanks to the passed down secrets of this latter group, our Dude Collective was well prepared for seeking out the Old Man of the Forest. The only trick? Finding someone bold enough to be the “Bigfoot bait”. Fortunately, we had Dan the Destroyer.

Dan was originally nominated to dress up in a Sasquatch outfit in an attempt to lure out a legitimate Bigfoot simply because it was commonly known he was working for Homeland Security and was considered to be just a narc. Should Dan be shot by hunters or raped by a grizzly, it was thought he would be easily replaced by the next domestic spy Big Brother sent our way. The truth was, though, that Dan wasn’t as expendable as we would have liked to believe. Not only was he the resident engineer (though he certainly broke more things than he built, thus his nickname), Dan also became endeared to the rest of the Collective. Sure, we constantly lied to him in order to pass disinformation along to his spymaster, but we did genuinely like Dan.

Vic Neverman and Bigfoot (Dan the Destroyer in costume)

We dressed Dan in Yeti garb and followed him as he wandered into the forest making feminine orgasmic noises (this wasn’t protocol, it was just typical Dan behavior). Perhaps Dan’s high-pitched yelps turned off male Bigfeet, perhaps he just didn’t have the right scent to be a Sasquatch in heat, but we never encountered our target. In fact, the best we ever did was get drunk enough to raid other campfires and get a laugh out of our nervous neighboring campers. Except that group of coed volleyball players. Those chicks just thought us creepy goons, regardless of how many times we offered them a few beers back at our campsite to make up for trespass.

Ahhh, good times…


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