In guitar god Ted Nugent's new book Ted, White, and Blue, an addendum to Blood Trails 2 and God, Guns, and Rock & Roll, "The Nuge" plays political advisor and addresses issues ranging from John Lennon's call for peace to "soulless, ugly, Planet of the Apes, anti-American, brain-dead" health care reform. His advice? Among other things, charge parents of fat kids with neglect, eliminate foreign aid, and send every able-bodied American on welfare to Cuba, Mexico, England, or France.
A few months back, Outside's CLAIRE NAPIER GALOFARO met up with Nugent on the set of Beer for My Horses, a Toby Keith movie released in August. Uncle Ted said journalists are mostly "left wing, f****** hippies" who have nevernot oncerepresented him fairly. He called Claire a wench with an agenda. After that, things only got more interesting
Ted Nugent: You don't feel the love?
Claire Galofaro: I don't. No one's ever called me a wench before.
I'm pretty sure you're the first.
You've got a whole bunch of firsts coming if you keep spending time with me.
I've heard that about you.
I'm just adorable. I'm the most adorable, precious bastard that ever lived.
And what makes you so adorable?
Honesty, for starters.
Oh yeah? Tell me something honest.
You're a fashion wench. I just did. And I'm going to see if you really qualify as an Outside journalist.
This is a test?
Every day's a test. But, I am Outside. My life is Outside. You'll never sit next to a human being that spends more time in uncharted territories than me.
What sort of uncharted territories do you spend time in?
Swamps and mountains and forests and fens. You probably don't even know what a fen is. But, as a journalist for Outside Magazine I'm gonna help you through this one. Ever heard of a fen?
Doesn't sound familiar.
Didn't think so. Stick with me.
A fen is a wonderfully unique and critical weapon variation that is... uhhh, a scientist would have to tell you why it's a fen. [Editor's Note: A fen is a type of wetland that is less acidic than a bog.] But those scientists spend time in my fen because I harvest an adequate number of deer so they don't gobble up the Christmas tree ferns which are critical for the butterfly to breed on. So, it's about balanceas long as I hunt and fish and trap in a responsible sustained yield, every animal thats on the place is thriving in abundant populations. And I walk that ground. I've probably walked in quicksand where nobody's everwhere Lewis and Clark would have sent Sacagawea. I don't venture on the road less traveled, I seek adventure on no roads, untraveled. Yet, I still find trash there, so I can pretend. And I only do it six months a year.
What do you do for the other six months?
Rock my balls off.
You rock your balls off?
So, what do you think when people call you a bully?
Meh. There are a lot of retarded people in the world. That don't get me and so they struggle to find adjectives that satisfy their ignorance. And I sit back and I chuckle. If they would call me a bully someone called me a bully?
Whatever adjective they would chose, if it's negative, they couldn't be more clueless. My critics are the wind beneath my wings. As long as the assholes don't like ya, it proves you're not an asshole.
I've heard you say that before.
It's a truism that I can't seem to escape. I am the spotlight and those are the cockroaches. They're in such deep, deep denial because they prefer their insulated ignorance over the discomforting fact of what is going on. And I find that funnier than Richard Pryor on fire. And that's funny!
And theyre critical of your support for the Second Amendment?
I have a clear understanding of the right to self-defense and what "keep" and "bear" mean. And of course, we all know keep means: "it's mine and you can't have it." Bear means "sure, I have it right here." Keep doesn't mean "give me a list of what you will and will not give away." Bear doesn't mean stored in a safe and childproof gun lock. And "shall not be infringed" means "f*** you, drive safely." And so, I brought those clear and irrefutable self-evident truths to the floor. I'm a logic guy. That's all I am. I don't have any opinions.
You don't have any opinions?
It's not my opinion that venison is food. That's not an opinion. It's not my opinion that I have the right to defend myself. I do. My descriptions of the words keep, bear, and infringethose aren't opinions. If you don't know that Old Yeller had rabies and you see a dog foaming at the mouth, I imagine you'd try to wipe the foam off. Wouldn't you?
But if you knew it was rabies you'd do the right thing and shoot the f****** dog.
You're pretty into shooting things, huh?
A magazine like Outside, where the brain-dead Jann Wenners [Editor's Note: Jann Wenner is the editor of Rolling Stone and Men's Journal, not Outside] of the world edit out discomforting informationyou're still trying to wipe the foam off Old Yeller. Do you know who Old Yeller is?
Yeah, I know who Old Yeller is.
Hunting's the last pure, perfect activity on earth. Yknow, functioning as a reasoning predator in the world of tooth, fang, and claw. I hunt every day of the season, typically 150-175 days a year. I killed 127 deer last year. I didn't need to kill all of those myself, but they had to die. They had to go. The animals have babies every year, but we don't have new ground every year, do we? Well, then what the f*** are they going to eat and where are they going to live? So when you really want to talk environmentalism, you'll find a place were intelligent, responsible hunting, fishing, and trapping regulations are demanded. That's what I've dedicated my life to, and I couldn't be more proud of it. There aren't many perfect things left.
Does your wife hunt too?
She's a killer. Unbelievable.
Better than you?
Well, let me explain why she's so deadly. I had to learn through trial and error. And since I trialed and errored I was able to instruct her how to avoid my trials and errors. So she became an expert archer within dozens of hours instead of dozens of years.
Had she hunted before you?
Never. Had never touched any projectile other than badminton, but she now understands that thats the purest form of sustenance available to mankind. If youre gonna eat something you shouldn't be part of a distant assembly line of strangers.
When did you become so outspoken?
I remember the hippies on rock n' roll radio who thought I was an asshole for not smoking dope and snorting coke. And I was an idiot for slaughtering Bambiif I hear another person reference Bambi when it comes to managing living, breathing flesh and blood creatures, I think I'm going to start punching peopleand these guys got boogers coming out of their nose and they're drooling and puking and dying, but I'm the bad guy? So I brought my crowbar of truth.
Your crowbar of truth?
Yes, my crowbar of truth.
That's truth put on the end of a crowbar. Smash somebody in the fucking head with it. In a loving way.
Can you smack someone with a crowbar lovingly?
Yes. Old Yeller, that bullet between the eyes: that was a bullet of love. Agreed?
Scolding your child not to run after the ball out into the street. That would be the crowbar of love.
Is that an Uncle Tedism?
I suspect so. I don't know if I've heard it anywhere before. And not to be confused with the ball-peen hammer of perfection.
You also like to rhyme things with your name. Like, you write Teditorials.
Well, I'm a Teditor. Life is an adventure, isn't it?
I suppose, what's that got to do with Teditorializing?
I'll check at Tedquarters.
I've always been a Tedliner. Even my Tedliner's a Tedliner. Not to be confused with my bed-liner.
You can't hang around with me and not have fun. How could you not get a kick out of me?
Wow, you're very self confident.
You noticed? I mean, it's true. If you don't have fun with me you're weird. I mean, too many guns, long hair, rock n' roll defiance, both middle fingers on fire 24/7. What a beautiful thing. And entertaining as hell.
You've even told a number of people to suck your machine gun.
It's a target=-rich environment. On stage I told Hillary and Obama to suck on my machine gun. I think I actually told Hillary to straddle one and ride it off into the sunset, too.
So, um, are you a sexist person?
I'm very sexy.
No, not at all.
And how many states are you in some sort of law enforcement position?
My credentials in Michigan qualify me to carry a concealed gun in all fifty states.
Super. And you're a bit of a journalist?
Yeah, I write for forty some publications. Shooting-celebration magazines. But, I also write a weekly column in the Waco Tribune as part as part of my humanitarian effort to teach Texas how to talk and barbeque. And vote maybe. I've also written for the Wall Street Journal and USA Today. So, I write all over the damn place. I bring my crowbar of truth and logic into the unsuspecting masses. I have this terrible problem that I actually believe in the Ten Commandments, the golden rule, the Declaration of Independence, the Emancipation Proclamation, and the U.S. Constitution, the Bill of Rights. Plus, I have the audacity to think that venison is food. And that really pisses off the retards, y'know?
And I heard you were going to run for governor.
A lot of people want me to, but I don't know. I'm gonna be 60.
And an actor.
A comedian. And artificial inseminator.
Must be hard to find the time.
Be that as it may, there's never been an accurate representation of me.
Do you remember the Outside article about ten years ago?
Yeah, that was close. I'd have to look at it again, but I remember this guy made some asinine assumptions. I can't remember the details. But, when it comes to real conservation, real environmentalism, my record is flawless. You will never sit next to a man who's planted more trees. I've planted over 100,000 trees. Just one guy, one guitar player. I saw a force in this country condemning the last pure, accountable environmentalism. And I wanted to fix it.
Did you fix it?
Definitely, I was a force of change. Every upgrade in American hunting, either I was there or I trained or inspired people to support that.
Condensed and edited from a two-hour interview.