Yellowstone: Where Mother Nature Stops Smiling and Starts Goring Tourists

In the first act of nature’s 2025 “fuck around and find out” tour, a Florida Man—of course it was—got himself yeeted by a 2,000-pound slab of muscle, horns, and prehistoric spite: a Yellowstone bison. That’s right, folks, the new year barely sobered up, and some poor bastard already caught a full-speed meat missile to the chest.

According to officials, this brave (read: dumb as hell) soul “approached too closely to the animal.” Translation: he thought he was the main character in a Disney+ reboot of Dances with Wolves and forgot that bison aren’t props—they’re nature’s original battering rams with PTSD from centuries of colonization.

You know what the Park Service calls bison? Yellowstone’s most dangerous animal. Not bears. Not wolves. Not some meth-fueled Bigfoot on an ATV. Nope. Bison. These furry murder trucks kill more people than all the other animals in the park combined. They don't growl. They don't warn. They just charge, destroy, and trot off like, “That’s what you get, bitch.”

And still... every damn year... someone with a selfie stick and no survival instincts decides to get within spitting distance of one.

This latest incident? Front row seat to Darwin in action. The bison turned this dude into a yard sale of limbs and regret. Launched him like a lawn dart, hospitalized his ass, and reminded the rest of us that sometimes you gotta let natural selection do its thing.

But here’s the kicker, and where the Texas Blood Money Media sermon begins:

Humans have forgotten they’re meat.
And the universe? She’s got a long memory and a short fuse.

We paved paradise, killed the apex predators, put “live laugh love” signs over the fireplace, and started thinking we were gods. But step into the wrong ecosystem with the wrong attitude—and you’ll find out real quick that you ain’t shit. You’re a soft-skinned, screen-addicted bag of organs and anxiety. You’re snack-sized.

That bison didn’t gore that man because it was angry. It did it because he was there.
Because the bison has no Instagram. No therapist. No social contract.
The bison is free.

So let this be a blood-stained parable:
Don’t walk up on wild animals like it’s your petting zoo.
Don’t confuse wilderness with your curated bullshit.
And never assume the universe owes you safety.

Nature isn’t cruel. She’s just uninterested in your survival.

Moral of the story?

The wild doesn’t care about your clickbait.
It doesn’t care about your “good vibes only” hoodie.
It doesn’t care that you flew in from Tampa with your TikTok girlfriend.

It. Will. End. You.

And we at Texas Blood Money Media?
We celebrate that truth.
Because sometimes, you need a bison to remind mankind of its place in the food chain.

Now go forth, keep your distance, respect the horned gods of the plains…
…and remember: if you can’t hang with the wilderness, maybe stay on the porch.

Because out there, the only influencers are the ones who survive the stampede.