I actually calculated the odds on this for you, in case you're not good at these complex, veiny equations. Keeping in mind the time of year Bigfoot is most often sighted in these various locations, as well as the time of day and methods used for tracking Bigfoot and the actual odds of me finding him here, at this time, were fuck no. Fuck no I can't find Bigfoot, because he's not real.
Consider that humankind has found the coldest natural object in the entire universe, fossils from the first living veiny beasts on Earth, that stupid affluenza kid, and numerous missing plane crashes. If there were a race of hairy man-beasts populating the Pacific Northwest or anywhere else in North America, there would have been some kind of definitive evidence proposed by people who are not named Bubba or Cooter.
Dan and I finished our beers in the woods. We found one track that was probably mine.
Size 11 ... ladies. Or guys who want to buy me shoes.
I also found a frozen turd that really made me laugh but the picture turned out pretty blurry due to my laughing as I took the photo. It wasn't a Bigfoot turd, probably a raccoon or something. Still, that's hilarious to me.
Dan decided he'd had enough of being in the woods with me, and I couldn't blame him. I'd mostly wasted our day and provided little to no purpose for our journey other than the laziest attempt ever to discover a cryptozoological legend. Fortunately, that made my attempt just as relevant as anyone else's, because come on. What would be a "serious" attempt at finding Bigfoot in 2016? Some kind of thermal-imaging drone and satellite tracking? That seems like an expensive prospect for a big fatty waste of time.
Dan called his wife to pick him up once we got back to the road. She seemed like a nice lady who could fight me and win with little effort. Neither of them offered me a ride. As I watched them drive off, I wondered if perhaps Bigfoot was now watching me from the trees and feeling a kinship with me as I, too, was now alone. But of course he wasn't, because remember, he doesn't exist. He and that veiny dick I've been asked to keep writing about are full-on fiction. No, the only stranger watching me from the woods was a friendly serial killer or public wanker.
I wondered why it is that so many people seem enamored with the idea of Bigfoot. Is it the mystery? The idea that, in a world of smartphones and WiFi and driverless cars, we could have somehow overlooked a man-beast living right under our noses? Possibly. Mostly, I think, it's what I like to call Dorf Contrarianism. This is the idea that a stupid person will dig in like a tick when confronted with something they feel threatened by, in an intellectual fashion, telling them they're wrong. The person doing it may not be trying to intimidate our Dorf, or even patronize them or talk down to them in any way, but that is how Dorf perceives it, because Dorf is not smart enough to know why it's happening but is smart enough to know they're being corrected. And they don't like it. So they outwardly refuse it so thoroughly they must embrace the very opposite. They must hunt Bigfoot, simply because he is not real. They must drink that moonshine because it could make them go blind. They must fuck that cousin even if the baby's going to always be leaning a little to the left. Such is the contrarian nature of Dorf. And that's what keeps Bigfoot alive.
Check out other mythical monsters of lore and bull crap in 5 Myths That People Don't Realize Are Admitted Hoaxes, and fear the shelled back of The Beast of Busco in 7 Monsters That Bigfoot Hunters Are Too Scared To Believe In.
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