The guy distributed photo booths for a living. The massive selfie collection that had entranced the world was the equivalent of a fast-food restaurant manager sneaking an occasional french fry -- the main difference being that the end result of eating said french fry would only be considered art in Germany.
Who Is the Goat Man of Utah?
Hiker Coty Creighton was traipsing about the cliffs north of Salt Lake City when he stumbled upon a herd of goats and noticed one of them moving in a distinctly ungoatlike fashion. He soon realized that it was not a goat at all, but a man in a goat suit -- complete with fake horns and a mask -- just, you know, goating along amongst the herd on all fours. To convince the world (and himself) that he hadn't accidentally snacked on some questionable mushrooms, Creighton snapped a few blurry photos of what would quickly come to be known as Goat Man.
We sincerely hope Goat Man remembered to reinforce the rump section of his costume.
Creighton's camera caught Goat Man's attention, and the two froze and locked gazes until Creighton retreated behind a nearby tree, presumably wishing he'd packed extra pants for his hike because holy shit -- Salt Lake City was being stalked by either an escaped denizen of Comic-Con's dark underbelly or a character from a David Lynch dream sequence brought to life. The legend of Goat Man grew as reports of additional sightings came streaming in to local authorities. One such call came from an "agitated man" who anonymously begged authorities to "leave goat man alone," apparently after taking a course on persuasive rhetoric from YouTube.
Regardless of his origins, Goat Man immediately raised concern from the Division of Wildlife Resources, since goats are aggressively territorial and, more importantly, hunting season was just around the corner -- meaning that there were droves of fresh permit holders with corresponding droves of itchy trigger fingers. And every lazy hunter knows that the gimpiest goat is also the easiest one to pick off.
Goat Man initially survived by cunningly changing signs to read "Duck hunting season."
The Ludicrously Simple Answer:
Despite what Big Buck Hunter may have taught us about the killingest sport, non-video game hunters generally strive for one shot, one kill. And that means they need to get as close to their prey as conceivably possible.
After the media plastered his picture far and wide across the Internet, Goat Man came forward to identify himself (or at least as close as one can come to identifying himself without revealing his name because, again, goat suit).
"Just call me 'Billy.'"
The 57-year-old from California admitted to frolicking in the hills pretending to be a goat, dressed in a costume slapped together from a fleeced painter's suit and a backwards hat used to simulate a billy-goat beard. It turns out the man was a globe-trotting goat hunter, who had skewered goats everywhere from the U.S. to Mongolia. He was simply practicing his goat-stalking technique, using Utah as a training ground before a big upcoming hunt in Canada.
Actually ... you can judge for yourself whether or not that reveal makes this mystery less creepy.
For more kind of dumb mysteries, check out 5 Mysteries of Ancient Religions (Easily Explained) and 4 Creepy Mysteries With Hilariously Stupid Explanations.
Nightmarish villains with superhuman enhancements. An all-seeing social network that tracks your every move. A young woman from the trailer park and her very smelly cat. Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits, a new novel about futuristic shit, by David Wong.