This is a true story told to me by my now decreased brother-in-law, Clem Monkoski, who at the time held some type of Union Committee job in addition to being an employee of the Bosch Brewery at Houghton, Michigan. At one of the Union meetings, the guest speaker was Phil Ruppe, who, I believe, was a Michigan Congressman at that time. A larger than usual number of members were in attendance, and when the person who introduced Mr Ruppe said, "Now, we're going to have a talk by Mr. Phil Ruppe, and also, dere's lunch over dere and da bar is open."  At once, there was a noisy eruption of chairs being overturned, raucous voices and general bedlam. Mr. Phil Ruppe, distinguished guest, was at the lecturn facing a sea of empty chairs!!

A shapely Finnish girl was a counselor at a girl's camp on Wonder Lake. She was at the camp a day early to get things in order, and when her work was done, she thought it would be nice to start a sun tan "au natural", since this was private property. Suddenly, she heard male voices! She jumped up, stood in a crouch, and covered her bosom with crossed arms. Two young men approached her, asking "Which way is it to the boy's camp on Wonder Lake?" She said, "Oh, I know you guys, you just want me to point, so you can see my titties!"
     "No, no," they said, "we just want to know what direction we must go, we're lost."
     "O.K., she said, straightening up, and standing on her right leg and lifting her left  leg horizontally, she said, "It's over dat way!"

An elderly lady stopped at the IGA and bought a case of canned dog food quite regularly. A young man who helped her out to her car one day asked, "What kind of dog do you have?"
     She replied, "Oh, we don't have a dog, this dog food is for my husband, he likes to make sandwiches from it. And we're on a pension, so it helps on the budget."
     The boy stated, "Oh, I don't think you should use it for food."
One day after helping her to her car, he noticed that she didn't have any dog food. He said, "I'm glad you don't give that dog food to your husband anymore."
     She said, "Oh, my husband died."
     "Oh, I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have let him eat that dog food, that's too bad."
     The lady responded, "Oh, it wasn't the dog food, he was lying naked on the bed, trying to lick his "you know what", when he fell off the bed and broke his neck!"

A Priest and a Nun from Milwaukee were in da U.P. staying at an Indian Mission, giving advice and expertise to the local people who came to their religious seminar.
The day they were to leave for Milwaukee, a typical U.P. snowstorm came up. A local resident told them about a short-cut that would save them time. The storm was so furious that the drifting & blowing snow soon blocked the road. They were stranded in an isolated area.
The Priest said, "We can't leave the engine running, we could be overcome by carbon monoxide." Just then, the wind abated, and he saw a hunting shack a short distance away, and with great effort, they reached the unlocked shack, and entered, very exhausted. There was no furniture in the shack, only a bed and a closet filled with blankets.
The Priest said, "We've got a serious problem.  The only way we'll survive is to dispense with modesty and lie as close together as we can, and cover ourselves with blankets. Our body heat should sustain us."
Sister Mary Margaret agreed, and they did just that.
The Priest was surprised to find how comfortably warm they were, and he was just about to drift off to sleep when the Nun began shivering, so much so, that he couldn't sleep. He said, "What's the matter Sister?"
She chattered, "I'm c-c-co-l-d!"
He dutifully got out of the warm bed, got another blanket, and again was about to sleep. Again, the same scenario, three times!
He said, "Sister, do you suppose the Good Lord would approve of us behaving as man and wife, considering the predicament we're in?"
She replied, "Oh, YES, YES, I'm sure He would!!"
"Well then," said the Priest, "get up and get your own damn blankets!!"

I have a camp for 14 in the Adirondack Mountains of New York State. We graduated from the outhouse to a chemical toilet, which is no more than a metal commode housing which contains a five gallon bucket now famously known as the "slop bucket". Upon your arrival at camp you put a quart of pine oil and a gallon of water into the bucket. You use the chemical toilet until the bucket gets full. Well, after a weekend of hunting, approximately ten years ago, the last order of business before departure from the camp was to dump the "slop bucket". It was full to the brim. I grabbed the bucket from its housing and headed to the dump spot behind the old two holer. While maneuvering to get behind the outhouse I stepped on what looked to be firm ground, but turned out to be an old brush pile covered with leaves. My foot dropped through the old decaying branches into a hole that found my gonads. Needless to say the "slop bucket" got dumped...All over me!  I had toilet (Sitt) paper and sitt in my hair, hanging from my ears and on my mustache. The pine oil and urine mixture was stinging my eyes, and blurring my vision. I came back around the corner of the camp to solicit some help getting my shirt off from my two buddies who were waiting to take the 3 hour drive home. There was no help to be found, but there was severe laughter. One guy fell off the camp porch laughing and rolled on the ground. I stripped my shirt off and dove in the lake which had ice formed in spots. One buddy named me "Charmin Sykes".  A more appropriate name would be "Sitthead".  I had canker sores for six weeks since this mountain dew/crap mixture also got in my mouth. This is a true story that is told to every new guy that comes to camp.

We have two bunk rooms in the camp. Both are equipped with bunk beds. About eight of the guys had been in bed since about 10:00pm, myself included. Four more guys came into camp about 4:00am. Well, there was quite a commotion but they finally all got  to bed after "pouring" one guy into the bunk above me. Everyone got back to sleep. Well about 6:00am I awoke to a dripping sound. I laid in my bunk and surveyed the ceiling of our camp for a leak. I thought it must be raining. After about two minutes of that I found the "leak" coming through the mattress above me. The guy was just a little crocked. Needless to say I was out of bed in a flash and rolled up my mattress and sleeping bag.
Next time we came to camp we had a supply of Pampers to offer the guy.

The first time I ever went duck hunting it was with my dad and uncle. The morning of opening day we got up really early, around four thirty or so. After eating and loading all of our stuff it was time to head to the marsh. It was about a twenty minute drive to the marsh and my uncle was smoking a cigarette with his morning coffee. It was just he and I in his truck and my dad followed in our car. After he finished his cigarette he started coughing and had to spit out this massive luggie. Fast as he could he tried to roll the window down so he wouldn't choke to death. Anyway, he finally got the window down and he let it go out the window along with his damn dentures. Out the window they flew graceful as an eagle. Fast as lightning we had to pull the truck over and begin a search for the missing, or shall we say escaped, dentures. They weren't hard to find, they were just lying in the road upside down. I tell you we never laughed that hard in the marsh ever.

Ok, this is a true story, I know dat' 'cause it happened to the cousin of a friend of my uncle Buck, who lives up in Yooperland, honest. Emil goes out to the Moose Lodge and buys a Christmas tree one year. The kind with a heavy ball of dirt and some roots so's he can plant it in the door yard after it gets all dry and everything. He brings it home and sets it up in one of them big wash tubs, the same one he uses to wash his pet pig Ethel in. Anyways, after he gets it in the tub he goes in to take a shower 'cause his wife, Myrna, is at the grocery and he figures to clean up and have a couple of beers before she gets home and they put all the stuff on the tree. Well, what Emil don't know is that a six foot black snake hitched a ride on that same tree and was sleeping real good when Emil brings the tree in. Pretty soon the tree gets warmed up from being inside and the snake wakes up and crawls out of the tree to take a look around. So about this time Myrna gets home and starts unloadin' the groceries and all, and sees the snake stretched out in the living room. Well she lets out this giant scream which was load enough to get Emil out of the shower fast! It was also loud enough to scare the daylights out of the snake, and the snake heads for cover under the couch. So Emil runs into the living room to see what all the fuss is about, wearin' the same outfit he was wearin' in the shower and drippin' wet. Myrna tells him about the "GIANT" snake and about the same time their little dog (one of them French models that nobody likes anyway) comes in and gives Emil a big lick on his wet ankle! Emil, just knowin' that snake is startin' to eat him whole, faints dead away! Poor Myrna starts to lose it and calls the rescue guys 'cause she figures Emil had a stroke or something! Anyway, the rescue guys show up and bring in a stretcher and other stuff to check Emil out with. They hook up their stuff and load Emil on the stretcher and head for the pickup. About this time the snake has had enough with bein' cooped up under the couch, and feelin' the cold air from under the door the rescue guys propped open, figures this is a good time to make his getaway. He heads for the open door as fast as he can! Well, when the rescue guy backin' out the door sees this black snake headin' straight for him, he drops his end of the stretcher, dumping ole' naked Emil out and breaking his arm! Poor Emil wakes up layin' naked out in the snow with a busted arm, just in time to see this big black snake crawlin' out his door and headin' straight for him...so he passes out again! And dat's a true story ya' know, Honest! I just changed some names and facts and stuff to protect the snake's reputation.

I, being a dedicated hunter as described in your songs (I've hunted for over 25 years and haven't shot a deer yet), and Gary being a beginner (He'll hunt this year for the first time if we get this heated blind built), have noted two glaring omissions from your hunting music. First of all, you have failed to mention the single most important person in every hunting camp, THE COOK! We know that this is the most important person because we are all overweight and fart allot while we're in camp, and our cook, the camp's token Yooper, Lowell Fleury from New Swanzy, tells us so. The sign in the kitchen reads: "This aint Burger King, you don't get it your way, you get it my way or you don't get the S.O.B." He also reminds us that he got the job by bitching about the last cook's work 25 years ago, so if anyone has any complaints about the cooking, they can have the privilege. This has resulted in the camp food motto: "This stuff tastes like "sitt," but that's just the way we like it." The second area of hunting importance is the deer blind. Back in the olden days (When I was young according to Gary), brave hunting men had to go out and sit on stumps to hunt. After only several thousand years of doing this, men came upon the scientific discovery that this method of hunting resulted in great discomfort. After many years of research, it was determined that building a blind would reduce this discomfort. In our camp, the pursuit of discomfort reduction has approached the level of the nuclear arms race. At first, a pile of brush would suffice to break the wind. Today, our blinds incorporate such necessities as indoor plumbing, heaters, and even television (that individual is threatening to install a satellite dish). Our Yooper has even installed a recliner 15 feet up a tree in his enclosed bow blind. I can't wait to build myself a new blind so Gary can have my old one (hmmm, maybe a rec-room in the basement?).

I had some buddies over for some beer one night and having a good time when my dentures fell out into my beer glass and didn't realize it. I put them back in then go to the john to drain my vain and my dentures fell into the bowl. Ya' see, I'm just kinda standing there making tiny bubbles, when all the sudden I seen and heard a splash; and, and then my gums started getting gooey. So I kinda bend down and reached into the bowl to get my dentures, no thinking, I just kinda put them back into my mouth. So when I was all done I turned to wash my hands, and, and it dawned on me about my dentures. But, but it happens so often that the taste don't bother me any more. Plus, they seem to stay in my mouth a bit longer, plus the tiny bubbles kind of clean them better so now I save money on my denture cream.

Some time back I bought a 1972 Pinto from my friend Mad dog, who I works with at da' Nodular iron foundry in Saginaw, MI. Da car had a broken spring and da' transmission leaked, so I fixed them. Then da' car ran good. Until one day on da' way to work da' engine light came on , so I stopped to check it out. I put in some water, but da' light never went out. I drove it to work any ways. At work I told da' boss I could only work until lunch that day. I called my wife to bring some oil and a tow chain at 7:30. This is when she told me that I got a picture post card from Linda (a friend of mine dat' moved to Grand Rapids). At this point I knew I was in deep do-do. When da' wife and da' kids got there with da' oil and chain, she showed me da' picture post card while keeping it just out of my reach. All it said was, "I love it here in Grand Rapids, and wouldn't you like to be here!" On da' front of da' card was a picture of da' Landmark hotel. NOT GOOD!!! I put a can of oil in da' Pinto and said I would drive it as far as I could, because it was friday and there was lots of traffic. So off we went, me in da' little Pinto and her following in da' big 98 Olds. We stopped at Dawn Donuts and I put some water into da' Pinto, then off we went again. Just south of Kawkawlin, da' light came on. So I stopped and da' wife, she pulled in front of me. I hooked up da' chain real good. My son got in da' Pinto with me and off we went. My son told me that Ma was real upset over da' picture post card; But I already knew this because she was towing at 70 miles per hour. Her in this big ole' boat of a 98 Olds and me, helpless on da' end of a chain in a little Pinto. In Kawkawlin there is a traffic light, so I put my foot on da' brake to slow her down. She was not slowing down at all, so I put both feet on da' pedal and locked up all four tires. This did not slow her and da' olds down either. Da' smoke from da' tires was coming in through da' rust holes and filling da' Pinto. At this point I was cussing and praying at da' same time. I don't know if either worked, but we got through da' light ok. Still going 70, we was weaving in and out of traffic that was going North for da weekend. We where cussing and praying as we went North on M-13 to Linwood, where we lived. At linwood we did the same thing. I locked up all four tires trying to slow her down, because we had to make a right hand turn at da' light. Barely able to see through da' smoke, we made da' turn and headed into da' town. But she did slow down to 65. About a half a block from da' house I locked da' wheels up again. They must have been damned near square by that time. I knew that if I was going to survive da' picture post card, I would have to be more upset then her. And after that ride it wasn't that hard. There we was in da' middle of da' street yelling and cussing at each other at da' top of our lungs. Da' whole town must have heard us. We knew that our next door neighbors did because they were rolling on da' ground laughing at us. This is when there was a big KABOOM, and smoke and steam came from under da' hood of da' Olds; stopping us in mid sentence. Then she told me in a normal voice that I had better fix da' Olds, because she was going to go to da' Bingo. Hay...da' Bingo starts at 6:30...where in da' hell did she go? 

I am a Green Bay native transplanted to Hawaii! I was greatly saddened the other morning for I experienced the ultimate, monstrously attrocity that could be inflicted upon a Yoophead fan. My car was broken into. My windows were smashed, my wires were cut... but worst of all my Da Yoopers CD's were missing!
I was horrified at the discovery of the frendish diabolical act. Only So-Dam Insane could have concieved this devilish deed. I am sad to say that my CD's may now be in international hands. My hypothesis is in his quest to become cultured with more depth of character than his camels can provide, he had his people seize my Da Yoopers CD's.
 I was so upset over this that I couldn't work for three days. So I called the Commander and Chief of the Armed Forces here in Hawaii. I told him my tail and he was outraged with fury. I asked him to make an air strike in retaliation. He had to refuse because it was Sunday and he was going on vacation the next day. He did say he would keep all international radio stations under close surveillance while he was on vacation.
Because of this terrible act of barberisum which resulted in the theft of my prized Yooper CD's, my friends no longer call me, my dog ran away from home and all my house plants have died. I must have replacement CD's. So I have enclosed my money. Please hurry with my CD's. My Hawaiian friends were just starting to appreciate what Northern Great Lakes living is all about.
Why just last Sunday we were down on the beach at sunset. I was grilling up some brats and corn-on-the-cob and drinking a beer. But the best part of all was we were sharing Da Yoopers with everyone on da beach. That's when So-Dam Insane's people must hav conspired their dasterly deed.
Please hurry my CD's and enjoy da winter. I will be at sa beach with my Yooper CD's.

It was a nice sunny day in February. Leo and I were out hunting rabbits when we came upon and old rotting hollow log in a swampy area. Rabbit tracks going in and out of da log was so heavy, it looked like a superhairway. I told Leo that I would shoot a round into da log at da far end, and he should be ready if anything came out. I was carrying an over'under rifle/ shotgun combination, so I shot a rifle round into da log---nothing came out. Then Leo said for me to be ready that he would do the same for me. But he had a pump shotgun, and when da pellets hit that old wet spongy log one of them came back and hit him in da tooth----There he was, running around holding his mouth, and asking me if da tooth was broken----Hell I was laughing too hard to see---even if I would have wiped da tears out of my eyes
(We were hunting rabbits, but the only thing shot was a turkey).

Have you ever wondered why the Midwest's Northern deer hunting forests are always brown in color? It really isn't because of dead foliage... it's because of bear! Every year, around Thanksgiving, several hundreds of thousands of orange clad city slickers head to the great Northwoods for nine days of deer camp camaraderie and hopes of bagging a humongus turdy point buck(OOP! Sorry! Different group!). As they seek their trophy, invariably, someone kicks up a bear. The bear, then, rams it into overdrive to get out of there because he knows what is going to happen. As the fellow watches this huge dangerous animal boogie out of there, he turns white, cranks his heart rate up to  a hundred BPS(Beat Per Second), and starts to crap all over himself and everything around him. As the bear encounters other hunters on his hasty retreat, the previous scenario repeats over and over. As you can see, it takes very little time to cover a substantial area with brown. That's why the Northwoods are brown. Honest!
Occasionally, even native folk get a good cleaning out after an encounter with a bear. The worst situation one can be in is between Mama Bear and her cubs. Mama will protect and defend ber brood at all cost and the poor chap in the midst of this situation risks sitting himself to death.
Now the the true stuff. My deer camp is an equal opportunity family affair. Cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, moms, dads,grandpas, grandmas or whoever are welcome. As you know, not all family members get along. A number of years back, a group of cousins and friends came into camp and wanted to hunt with us for the day. We were having success in our efforts and knew that they wanted to capitalize on our abilities and then leave without reciprication. The way you discourage this is to send them through the rottenest, irtiest, swampiest, thickest hell hole of a piece of ground that you can think of. That's what we did. The day was abnormally warm and the ice was thin and rapidly getting thinner. Near the end of the drive was a nasty swamp that opened up into a large hay field. They couldn't miss it. As the drive was concluding and everyone was is the middle of the swamp, Cuzzin Eddie chased up a bear. The silence of this beautiful day was broken with the bellow, "HOLY ______! IT'S A BEARRRRRRRR!, which could be heard at the ranger station 28 miles away. In the excitment of the moment and as the bear passed into the view of others, all one heard was screams and the sound of breaking ice. Cuzzin Eddie went in up to his crotch. His endowment ceased to exist after hitting that cold water. One of his testicles (nuts) ended up the size of a hayseed and the other was just a little feller. His girlfriend went in up to her knees and was blue by the time she got to the vehicles. Cuzzin Carolyn fell in up to her breasts. We had to slap her on the back several times to get them back where they belong. Numerous others suffered the same fate to varying degrees. Friend Mike, a guy with our group, was posted at the point of a narrow row of pines that jutted into, and was getting nervous. The bear hasitly excited the swamp and was making a beeline directly toward him and the pines. As the bear passes within 10 feet, Mike took the safety off his rifle... just in case. In the end, our guests left (never to return), the bear made it out of Dodge, and the rest of us were rolling on the ground laughing our horns off....
Oh, the swamp and pines...
BROWN!

Friend Ed lives in the area in which we hunt. He takes all of his vaation in the fall during the various hunting seasons. An avid bow hunter, Ed will be in a tree every chance he gets. One particularly nice day in early fall, Ed was in one of his favorite stands waiting for his trophy to pass through. He rode his four wheeler the mile and a half back to the stand that day and knew that if he was going to get the big one, it would probably be there. All of a sudden the crackling and rustling of brush alerts him.With bow at ready, he waits. His visions of a trophy went down the sitter when a big old bear walked right up to the base of his tree. His visions really changed when the bear stood up, looked right at him, and startedgrowling, woofing and gnashing his teeth. Ed, commenced to yelling. The bear gets back down on all fours, deliberately lifts his leg, hoses down the base of the tree, then slowly ambles off in the direction of the four wheeler. One doesn't have to be a rocket scientist of figure ot the significance of that gesture. Must be universal. Anyway, figuring he scared any potential game into the nest county with the racker he raised, Ed decided to call it a day and head for the tavern. When he got to his four wheeler, it was laying on its side and the seat had been clawed and chewed to shreds. That old bear got his revenge on that jerk who yelled at him from up in that tree. Oh, the woods...
BROWN!

Me 'n Auntie Huulda vantad ta go shoppin at da mall, but Uncle Eino vounldn't come along. Said he vanted ta stay home an wax his swampers, so Auntie an me vent by ourselves, soon as I got da pickup rollin down da hill to start it.
As ve valked into da mall, ve noticed dat da door vas propped open (Da air conditioning system was on da blink). As ve looked in da shop vindows, dere vas a rush of commotion behinds us. We figured Uncle Eino had changed his mind, cause it sounded yoost like he does, after a coupla pasties an' a few beers. There was  a thrashing, an a gruntin' and a wheezin' sound just a-fillin' up da whole place. Ve turned around, and dere vas, not Uncle Eino,  but anudder big moose, just wheezin' and a-sit'n, as if he owned da place... well at that moment, HE DID! Nest thing we know, folks started runnin' an screaming, and da darn moose tried ta run, but kept slippin' and slidin' in da sit he was a ploppin'. Da onlyvon in da place who wasn't scared was Auntie Huulda... She ain't scareda nuttin'.
She marched over ta da beast, whose eyes were big as Keweenaw snowballs in June. He eyed her wit what strongly resembled hatred, but she kept her voice low and oothing as she fumbled in her 'tote' for something. She pulled out a big wadda gum, and offered it ta da animal, and he promptly gulped it down.
Holy Waah! Dat big critter startin' blowin' bubbles outta both ends, but he calmed right down, and began givin' my auntie an amorous look, which could have proved ta be even more dangerous fer her.
Da little lady proceed ta lead da big bull moose toward da door, but when dey got dere, he wouldn't leave. Guess he was havin' too much fun, and besides, who gave him treats out in dat voods, eh? Auntie Huulda can talk softly, but dat little voman has no patience wit stubbornness (just ask Uncle Eino, eh?). She screeched and hollered at dat moose, but he vouldn't budge. Not one to be out done by a mere two ton beast, she rummaged around  in dat tote bag again, and when she found what she'd sought, she promptly walked around to da rear of da moose, and lit da match, just as he was blowing a big "retro bubble".
Da explosion rattled the shop windows, as well as Auntie Huulda's Choppers, and da moose jetted out dat door like a New York cab.
Auntie Huulda became da heroine a da place, an dey even elected her "Queen a da Moose Sit Mall".
By da vay, if yer ever out in da voods... way out dat is, an ya spot a moose wit his rear-end missin', don't give him any bubble gum. Just call Auntie Huulda: she'll know what ta do.