Our generation has produced a breed of men who are more interested in hunting than eating. We enjoy the process. We admire ourselves in our uniforms. We love polishing our guns. In the forest we stalk our prey. Raising the scope, we slow our heartbeats. With a surgeon's precision, we deftly square the target; the deer are oblivious.
Though we don't pull the trigger, the deer is defeated. The fact that it continues to breathe is irrelevant. Its life was held in our hands; we could take anything we wanted. We feel a bizarre and ultimately empty satisfaction.
Catch and release.
A metaphor.
Why is it an empty satisfaction? If you stopped just polishing your gun and actually pulled the trigger--if you dirtied your uniform by actually digging in to your prey--would you feel sated?
ReplyDeleteAnd do you think it's unique to our generation? Supposedly men have always enjoyed the chase more than the catch.