In my last column, I talked about what my father called "walking around sense." While having a good dose of walking around sense is a good thing, not having it can create all kinds of problems.

I recently read an article about a few guys who evidently were lacking in walking around sense.

It seems that a group of hunters in a midwestern state decided to band themselves together into a sort of hunting fraternity, complete with rules regarding the type of guns they used and the type of game they went in search of. They also established an initiation ceremony for entry into the club and that, as they say, is where the trouble began.

According to the article, Ralph Jones (not his real name) applied for membership in the hunting fraternity and, after several interviews and a couple of sessions at a shooting range, was accepted for membership, providing he made it through the standard initiation rite.

It would seem someone who lacked walking around sense designed this initiation ritual. Jones was taken into the woods with a group of four other hunters and, after drinking several cases of beer, was asked to strip and run naked through a bramble thicket that contained, among other things, thorns and poison oak. After demonstrating his willingness to put his brain in neutral and do something as stupid as that, things quickly went downhill from there.

After running through the brambles, Jones then had to pick up a venomous snake, I think it was a Copperhead, and twirl it around his head like a baton for one minute. As for me, I would have balked at the bramble patch. As for picking up the snake, I would have bid my potential hunting buddies a fond farewell and lit out for my truck like greased lightning. No way would I even get close to a Copperhead, much less pick it up.

"The only thing I remember about the snake is that it kind of smelled like a cucumber," said Jones. "I never knew a snake could smell like a tossed salad."

It is a wonder Jones can remember anything after what came next.

In a final act of wanton idiocy, Jones placed a beer can on his head and, standing a still as possible considering his level of inebriation, allowed one of his drunken hunting buddies to take aim and shoot said can off his head using a crossbow.

According to the police reports, the arrow went through Jones' right eye, blinding him and, missing major blood vessels and only injuring a small part of his obviously addled brain. The tip exited the rear of his head.

"If he had tried to pull the arrow out it would have killed him," said the emergency room physician who treated Jones. "At least he and his buddies had enough sense to leave well enough alone."

Now I am no genius, but it would seem to me that these guys didn't have much walking around sense. Who, in his right mind, would down two or three six packs of beer, run naked through thorns and poison oak, pick up a Copperhead, twirl it around your head, put it down, and let someone drunker than yourself try to shoot a beer can off your head with a crossbow?

"I really didn't think that much about it at the time," said Jones from his hospital bed. "I figured these guys were in the club, so they must know what they are doing. Besides, I wanted to be in the club."

Let me tell you something Ralph. Anyone with walking around sense wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed, blind in one eye, covered with poison oak and lucky to be alive. I can't think of any club worth that.

As for the club, according to the local sheriff, the members have decided to dissolve the organization.

How's that for walking around sense?