The hunting season is sacred. It's been sacred in my life since birth. I've never missed a hunting season in 64 years. It's my calling, it's what I am, it's how I was designed, it's what inspires, fascinates, satisfies, and drives my quality of life. And I know that it brings me such joy, and it does such a critical and essential performance for nature and for the environment, that I am dedicated and have been for over 40 years to promoting and celebrating that. I never defend it. I always promote and celebrate it.

I'm Beginning To Wonder If It Would Have Been Best Had The South Won The Civil War.

A man must stand up for what he believes in - especially in this culture war between good and evil.

Mao Tse Tung lives and his name is Barack Hussein Obama. This country should be ashamed. I wanna throw up.

Name me a society that doesn't love barbeque. It doesn't exist. Mankind is barbeque celebration.

I'm the gun guy, a loud guitar Dirty Harry with a ponytail.

I stand humbled on bended knee but, of course, the response to that would be 'Duh!' And to be given that incredible honor means that I represent the piss and vinegar, the energy, the defiance, the musicality of the Funk Brothers and Motown and Mitch Ryder and Bob Seger, Brownsville Station and Grand Funk Railroad and Eminem and Jack White and Kid Rock - are you kidding me?