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  September 8, 2002
Killing Chompy

 Hibernating somewhere in the dew dappled wilderness of Yosemite Valley, California is a 200-pound female grizzly bear, nicknamed "Chompy" by a handful of local residents.

Killing Chompy
  Over the course of a single weekend in 1989, Chompy mauled and indiscriminately disfigured thirteen separate campers. By all accounts, her victims were torn apart in ways more horrifying than anyone could ever imagine. Today these individuals are missing limbs and largely confined to wheelchairs, and Chompy's whereabouts are unknown.
  A unique alliance has taken place: each year on the anniversary of the attacks, victims return to the scene with rifles and hunting equipment. They all share stories, and they all seek revenge.
  Incredibly, there are more and more victims with each passing hunt. It seems like everyone wants a piece of Chompy. Mark Matheny keenly recounts their first date. “Running from the bear was a total mistake. She was like a missile homing in on a target.”

  “I could feel my face ripping. I felt her teeth crunching down on my head. Time just stopped then. I remember thinking my time on Earth is done.. I'm going to miss my wife and kids. She started ripping at my arm, shaking it violently. I thought it was going to rip clean off. The left side of my face was torn open, cheek flap hanging.”

  Then she grew bored, and veered off into the woods, with two fuzzy bear cubs ambling along behind. But by then, all Matheny could think about was taking more pictures of himself. Chompy's teeth crunched through his eyebrow bone (the area between the brow and the eyeball), along with the crown of his skull. Total repair to the head and face repairs would require more than 15 inches of stichery.

   His arms, bruised black and blue, were sore for several weeks. Severe headaches - nearly constant - would continue for two years.

  It was David Lynde who first heard his buddy Joe's cry for help. Lynde knew loud, banging noises would frighten the bear away, and he grabbed two iron skillets. He bolted from his tent, wearing only Christmas socks and a patched-up hunting parka made of Velcro.
  Chompy's thick fur snagged right up against Lynde's coat, dragging him through the woods for several hundred yards. He was trampled and crushed nearly to death by the side of creek bed.

  “I could not get out from underneath her,” he winces. “I'd move and she'd claw me. I'd play dead and she'd sit on my face.”

  Today, Lynde favors jackets made from hemp. He speaks through one side of his mouth and clutches a gun in his three-fingered hand. “Now that I'm confined to a wheelchair, I feel like shooting bears more than ever.”
  Obviously, not everyone is thrilled with this approach.

   Laura Woodrow, 20, is director of the Modesto branch of Operation Care Bear. She insists an escalating war between gimps and grizzlies will place the human population in greater peril.

   “As handicapped people wheel deeper and deeper into the wilderness, well, that Chompy's territory. You're only going to see more human injuries.

  Woodrow wonders further how all these amputees are able to get their hands on weapons so quickly. “It just seems like every young woman's worst nightmare.”

  Indeed, the sudden proliferation of specialty shops in the Yosemite area hawking merchandise at physically challenged sportsmen has exacerbated neighborhood tension. Art Rayburn is the owner and general manager of one such enterprise, and he's quick to claim business has been mostly positive.

  “This is not one of those fly-by-night back alley operations dealing guns to the handicapped and exploiting the situation,” he says.“We have three easily recognizable mall locations and more on the way. Just come on down and say hello.”


  While the irony and brutality of disabled individuals killing animals is not lost on most people, the participants find the whole activity a refreshing escape. The entrepreneurial efforts of Rayburn - and others - paid off practically overnight.

  Handicapped hunting exploded in Modesto and Sonoma counties. It piqued enthusiasm in the hearts of socially isolated young adults. It inspired seasoned veterans - even those who hadn't been chomped by Chompy - to renounce their retirement in favor of one last big kill.

  “Of course hunters can be disabled,” says Bruce Buckmaster, founding member of Project Chompy Burger. “The whole exercise is just a lot of sitting around waiting for something to stroll directly in front of you. Maybe blind people might encounter some problems, but I'm not blind.”

  Bryan “Killer Quad” Tibbetts has never set foot inside a Cripple Outlet. Like HAM radio operators and Internet enthusiasts of days gone by, he prefers to hack away at shooting rigs of his own design. He gestures sexually toward his hot rod.

 “This modification was done simply because I was tired of getting stuck in mud, and having my tires slip on wet grass, loose dirt and leaves. Basically just a traction problem. This modification was done in 3 hours on a Sunday afternoon. I used a set of rear tires I had from my old Quickie P300 and bolted them onto a second hub bolted on the outside of the original tires.”

  His new tires no longer slip on pine needles. Tibbetts is able to pursue loud, angry bears through the sloppiest of muds without getting stuck.

  “I have the traction to drive over more obstacles such as rocks, tree limbs, and uneven ground, whereas when encountered before, these objects would stop my chair. My rear tires would spin and dig holes in the ground.”

  The truth is, most members of the disabled hunting community don't care if they bring down Chompy, or some other bear, or even a bear at all. As long as they're out there killing.

   As long as your battery's got enough buzz to get up and over the hill by the crack of dawn, as long as you've got one good finger left to pull the trigger - that's what it's really about. Roaming fully armed and free through God's wilderness in a modern, comfortable wheelchair.

  “This is the twentieth or twenty-first century, and technology has changed everything,” remarked Frances Payton, who suffered a fractured jaw, crushed cheek bones and nerve damage to his face.

   Payton shakes when he speaks, describing twenty hours of surgery with limited anesthetic.

  A steel plate was fitted to repair a hole in his skull, and he still hasn't regained vision in one eye. Doctors are not optimistic about his hearing.

  “Bears don't belong out in the wild,” Payton says. “They belong dead or dancing on balls at the circus.”
Excerpt: The Rosie O'Donnell Show
Guest: Tom Selleck. In this now-famous exchange, two personalities clash it out before a live studio audience. Selleck walked.
You guys are heroes.

All you hunters stickin' it to the Chompster.
Oh my gosh.

Say what?
Handicapped people are entitled to own guns, and bears are entitled to get shot. You are wrong, mister Magnum P.I.

You are TOTALLY wrong.

Open your eyes and look at the facts, Rosie.

One out of every twenty--

WHOA there, Cliff Clavin.
I'm a parent.


Good luck finding someone to fuck you out of being a dyke.
  Speaking of dancing on balls, other campers that fateful weekend were not so lucky. Charles Crane is a retired communications specialist who served in World War II. Chompy lunged at him from behind as he urinated against a Douglas fir.

  She bit off his legs one by one, then pulled him through the snow by his penis. It changed his life and the way he urinates.

  Today, Crane's savings are nearly depleted. Just this month he moved into a single-room apartment to save on hospital bills averaging eight thousand dollars a day.

   He finds himself subject to round the clock suicide watch, 24-hour care, and a live-in medical assistant.

  “She's not even a real nurse,” wheezes Crane. “I don't know what she is.”

True Tales of COURAGE

Non-registered nursing assistant Freida Blanchett graduated from Gubers Hospital Academy in Tampa, Florida - but it turned out not to be a real school. “I never received the e-mail containing my diploma. I never even got a transcript. Since then I've been helping paraplegics get back on their feet.” Or at least back on the toilet!

  Sometimes he aims and sometimes he doesn't. Blanchett wipes the tank with a damp cloth, cleans off the patient and cooks breakfast. She raises and lowers him into the bathtub. She minds the laundry and the dishes. She even washes and vacuums the living room!
  “I buy the groceries, do the taxes. Walk the dogs, mow the lawn, clean the garage. Sometimes we'll get under the blankets and watch DVDs, other nights after ice cream and burritos I'll climb in the sling upside-down for sex. I have sort of a split personality: I'm a woman working with handicapped hunters and a woman working with mops.”

  Which brings us finally to handicapped women hunters working with mops. They show nothing but support for their husbands and sons off doing battle. It isn't something you would have expected ten or twenty years ago, but these days each of Chompy's female victims cleans, straightens, locks and loads her Winchester as efficiently as her non-disabled counterpart.
  These confident beauties wheel around mops and guns just about everywhere in today's society. American sportswomen enjoy a sparkling, lemon scented, fully-armed, handicapable, multicultural land of mopportunity and machine gun power. It's unlikely our country could boast this description if it weren't for the female grizzly bears like Chompy making a little noise and paving the way.

  And what about all the gay, handicapped “bears” currently prowling the planet? Can they lend anything particularly insightful to the debate?

  No doubt when this hunt is over, there'll be one thing on which everyone agrees. The dangerous animals cluttering up our nation's parks, streams and wildlife preserves have simply got to go.

( Posted by Rotten Staff )

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