“License to kill armadillos by the government of the United Nations. Man, free to kill armadillos at will. To kill, you must know your enemy, and in this case my enemy is a varmint. And a varmint will never quit – ever. They’re like the Viet Cong – Varmint Cong. So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. And that’s all she wrote.”
An interesting little story about how Brett Favre spends his summer vacations – besides waiting long enough to get surgery so he can avoid training camp, that is – comes courtesy of Bob Sansevere of the Pioneer Press who relayed an account told to him by Brad Childress of exactly what went down when the Vikings head coach visited Favre on his palatial estate in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, which is, according to Childress, “a big enough place where he can be doing anything from cutting wood to shooting water moccasins.” Sounds grand.
All the amusing, backwoods hick goodness follows.
Childress was having a delightful evening with the Favre clan until things got interesting when he, Brett, Deanna and Favre’s agent, Bus Cook, were returning to the the ranch after a fine meal. That’s when things got a little hairy when Favre noticed a danged armadillo making the rounds on his property, acting like it was king of the castle:
“We come back through the gate (at Favre’s ranch.) Deanna is in the back seat. I’m in the front seat. Brett’s driving. We start to slow down on the driveway. I go, ‘What the hell is that?’ This thing kind of shows up and looks like it’s going to hit the car. Brett goes, ‘It’s an armadillo.’
I know what an opossum looks like. You go to the zoo to see an armadillo. I said, ‘It’s a what?’ Then I said to him, ‘That’s the thing with the armor on the back, right?’ He goes, ‘Yeah. Those damn things tear the heck out of the grass.’
Now he’s accelerated the car toward the house and he says, ‘I’m going to get that SOB. I thought I got rid of him. They eat grubs. Just tear the heck out of the grass.’
He lets Deanna out of the car. We jump in his truck. He’s got two guns in the back seat of his truck. We go back down the road to find the thing. He pulls out a flashlight. It’s like a police flashlight. I say, ‘That much light comes out of that flashlight?’
He’s looking over here, over there. We look over and now it’s crossed the creek and coming over the road. He grabs his gun and goes, “Boom, boom, boom.” Then he goes, ‘Goshdangit.’ Now he’s thinking about whether to set a trap. Now he’s got the armadillo in his head.”
As a man who takes pride in a well-maintained and manicured lawn, I can sympathize with Favre’s frustration over an animal making a mess of your lawn, but I am a bit concerned that someone nicknamed The Gunslinger having difficulty taking out an armadillo with a rifle. Further, what happens if Favre does in fact become obsessed with killing that varmint? Will this delay his return to the Vikings longer, or even worse, prevent his return entirely?
Stupid armadillo. In the end, it is my hope that Favre slays his armored arch-rival and brings the desecration of his beloved lawn to a grinding halt. Hopefully, Favre doesn’t have to laugh, because he ended up outsmarting even himself. A friendly piece of advice for the graybeard: his enemy, his foe, is an animal. In order to conquer the animal, he has to learn to think like an animal. And, whenever possible, to look like one. He’s gotta get inside that guy’s armor and crawl around for a few days.
Or something. Gunga galunga.
Brett Favre’s coming back … to shoot that armadillo! [Pioneer Press]