“Horseshit! Horseshit! Let’s all say horseshit! Say horseshit, Bill!”
That’s one of my favorite lines from one of my favorite plays, AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY by Tracy Letts. It came to mind because last night I watched an episode of the Destination America television series MOUNTAIN MONSTERS, in which a band of hirsute, overweight rednecks goes off into the Appalachian backwoods to hunt down and kill cryptids. I would find the idea repugnant, or MORE repugnant, if I believed for one minute the show was anything other than what I determined it to be. MOUNTAIN MONSTERS, friends, is 100% pure horseshit.
There may or may not be a werewolf on the loose in Wolfe County, Kentucky. (Some serendipitous naming, there, no? Unless they named the county after the cryptid; but if they did, why would they add an extra letter to it?) The rednecks, as one would expect, find tracks. Problem is, the tracks they find, one in particular, strikes me as just a tad TOO perfect. Footprint evidence is rarely so clear and well defined. And of course they capture some intriguing yet ultimately insufficient video evidence of the “werewolf” walking past a camera trap, while the rednecks, watching the footage, keep commenting on how terrified the goat they were using for bait appears to be. (The goat looked bored, not terrified.) It’s a shameful farce. Embarrassing. I found myself wishing the real werewolf would show up and eat one or two of them.
“Horseshit! Horseshit! Let’s all say horseshit! Say horseshit, Bill!”