Snifflaska, Part XXI

Several places, including HERE, seem to enjoy the fact that Sniffy, while bragging about what a hunting veteran and hardscrabble pioneer woman she is, repeatedly misses what seems to be a "hey, please kill me!" shot at a caribou. Personally I don't really care that she missed, but, as usual, it reveals more of her character than if she had dropped the fucker with one shot. Instead of laughing it off "ah, fuck it, I'm not Sniffy Boone for chrissake," she makes her dad and that creepy guy that you know hangs around the family to sniff her hamper go through some extended scenario wherein they check to see if the rifle's sight was off, since that's surely why she missed, and not because she's held a rifle in her hands about as many times as she's held my nuts in her hand. I can't remember whether or not they determined it was the sight's fault, but knowing Sniffitty, some poor fucker from whatever company that rifle was made at who's in charge of the sights got shitcanned from his job today, and came home to find the severed head of a caribou in his bed. I promise you his destruction will come up in some smarmy moment during one of Palin's "speeches" in the future.

Also, she shot at least five times, and the caribou didn't move. Didn't budge. Didn't flinch. Not once. Now, I'm not a big game hunter so I have no idea how this shit works, but I would think that the incredibly loud crack of the rifle might startle an animal into thinking "shit, that sounds bad, I better get the fuck outta here" and not "sounds loud, I should probably stand here atop this hill preening like a fucking asshole." Strange.