Obviously this guy had never heard of Monsters And Mysteries in America, a TV show that inhales any eyewitness account of the North American yeti as eagerly and deeply as if it were truth as pure as mountain air. If he had just taken his Adobe efforts to MAMIA, he would be famous today across cable TV land, instead of being scorned on Reddit.
Monsters in America should not be confused with Finding Bigfoot, a show I do not watch but yet admire as a vehicle devised by its producers for their perpetual employment, as I feel someone can search for Bigfoot from the first shining day after his or her graduation from film school to the final morning he or she pops in their false teeth to head for the editing room without ever locating him, cashing checks all the while. My kudos.
Monsters concentrates on the reconstructed tales of those who have met the legendary beast in person. The first tale in the episode I researched concerned two men who discovered a family of large subhumans dancing around in a sunny glen in their hairy Eden. Having no camera, one of the men did the next best thing and shot one of them with his rifle, whereupon the adult creature disappeared with a scream. When he followed it, he came upon one of the baby Sasquatchi and, doing what any reasonable man would do when coming upon a critically endangered species steeped in legend, shot it as well, this time dead. Then, upon examining the creature, the woodsman felt guilty that he killed something with such a human appearance, so instead of hauling the corpse off so the matter of its existence could be settled once and for all, or at least coming back with a cheap camera, he buried the ape-child in the woods like any common serial murderer. Then, when called upon, he can't find the remains again. He speculates that the other Bigfooti must have retrieved the body and re-interred at some secret Sasquatch burial ground.
The Monsters crew just eats this up and moves on, to the next legendary beast. The order of Sasquatchi has apparently mutated over the years, for the two men in the next meeting with a creature of lore live in fear of Sheepsquatch, who is a Bigfoot who has sprouted satanic horns from his head. These men, from the looks of them, live deep in the hill country of their native Kentucky, far away from people they obviously distrust, like federal agents, corroborating witnesses, and dentists. Their way of looking for Sheepsquatch is to lock themselves in a trailer in the forest, which is shaken back and forth in the night and nearly bowled over by a mighty creature the men swear is Sheepsquatch, ignoring other, equally plausible agencies for the attack like bears, relatives who have loaned them money, or repo men.
After swallowing this story like an appetizer plate of delicious fresh sushi rolls, MAMIA heads down to the mighty Rio Grande, where Bigfoot, following in the footsteps of the Wright Brothers, has learned to fly. Yes, a man and a boy (People who stumble upon Monsters in America seem wisely to be fanatically attached to the buddy system) have a near-deadly encounter with a giant creature with vast leathery wings. Yep, they met Batsquatch.
Eager to learn more, I lean in closer to the TV. An annoying buzzing insect keeps orbiting in front of the screen. After a couple more passes, I'm tired of sharing my pixels with the bug and clap it between my hands,, squishing the life out of it. Before I go to wash it off in the sink, I examine the tiny corpse and find, to my horror, it is a tiny hairy humanoid, with thin, transparent insect wings. It gives off a peculiar smell.
Quick, someone find me a film crew.