In the 1980s, every single woman in the US knew a Doc Antle. He was the guy wearing an elaborate mystical stone necklace, a lion's mane of a mullet, and clothes inappropriate for any setting other than a Sedona vortex or a drum circle. He clearly didn't worry about employment, because Mommy and Daddy supplied him with extravagant living expenses, and the mullet supplied him with young women.
"Doc" Antle, like everyone involved in big cat rescue, has no qualifications for caring for the world's largest carnivores. He simply uses them the same way he uses young girls, and the only difference in him and a pimp is that a pimp protects his product. He just kills then when he is tired of them.
If the other spotlights in this series have made you say, "Gee, these people are crazy," Doc will make you say, "Gee, this guy is icky."
Enough, Netflix. Enough. Stop elevating these slimy people and giving them notoriety. Help the law go after them to protect the animals from these abusers. The novelty is gone, and now I am just sick to my stomach that they keep getting away with it.
"Doc" Antle, like everyone involved in big cat rescue, has no qualifications for caring for the world's largest carnivores. He simply uses them the same way he uses young girls, and the only difference in him and a pimp is that a pimp protects his product. He just kills then when he is tired of them.
If the other spotlights in this series have made you say, "Gee, these people are crazy," Doc will make you say, "Gee, this guy is icky."
Enough, Netflix. Enough. Stop elevating these slimy people and giving them notoriety. Help the law go after them to protect the animals from these abusers. The novelty is gone, and now I am just sick to my stomach that they keep getting away with it.