Where it lands I do not care. I get my arrows wholesale.
While I definitely appreciate three-thousand years of beautiful tradition, from Apollo to Jack Churchill, I’m still hesitant to continue living in the past. Being an archer looks like too much work. I’m too lazy to shoot a regular gun; what makes anyone think that I’d want to use a bow and arrow? I’m so lazy I’d hire other people to go out and shoot for me, if I could. Unfortunately, I don’t have the money, and hiring mercenaries to go to the shooting range for you is a lot more expensive than you’d think. Of course, they go to the shooting range on their own time, but I pay them to chant my name while they do it. I can’t hear them, because I can’t be bothered to go to the range, but it’s nice to know that somewhere, someone is psychotically chanting your name. This is probably how Leonidas felt, without having to put up with the drafty wardrobe.
Regardless of my views on archery, I will admit that Lars Andersen is the best archer I have ever seen. Since the Intertunnel has a sick fetish for archer videos, I have seen a lot of archers in my day. I’m not the president of the archery fan club, but I’m at least on the board of directors. I go to all the meetings. Until that elfy-looking fellow from Lord of the Hunger Games steps up his game and starts shooting down military jets, I think Lars Andersen is definitely the best archer on the Intertunnel.
There seems to be a bit of a fetish for archery in modern media, and I’m getting pretty sick of it. They’re pellet guns for people who don’t want to offend anyone by owning a gun. Not even a real gun, mind you; if any of them ever saw a real gun they’d faint like a southern belle with a touch of the vapors.
I know it’s a supposed to be a manly-men-doing-manly-stuff-for-men video, but I’m just not seeing it. Everything from the soundtrack to their spiffy little outfits seems to be effeminized to the point of no return. I know that picking on the warmed-over modern-dance-country-alt-rock-polka that they have playing in the background might seem like overkill, but it’s really representative of what I’m trying to get at. The whole thing looks like a commercial for a pickup truck — and not a very good pickup truck at that. I feel like they’re going to try and sell me Viagra in a moment, because that’s what comes on immediately after the pickup truck ads. It’s bad enough that they’re limp-wristed, but I’d prefer it if they kept their other limp extremities to themselves.
(Many thanks to the indispensable Charles Schneider for sending this, and many others, our way)