In Suicidefoodism's pantheon of scorned gods, the Keeper of the Sacred Bull's-eye occupies a hallowed niche. Along with the Complicit Animal and the Martyred Pig, the Keeper—the Targeted One—is an icon of the highest importance.
In his current incarnation, the Keeper is a white bear called (we have spontaneously decreed) Goofybear. It is Goofybear's solemn purpose to act as a foil for the hunter, to shore up the hunter's sagging self-image. "Nature's not so tough," he soothes. "Just look at ol' Goofybear! I'm not scary, right? Nope, just dumb and goofy. A big ol', dumb ol', goofy ol' bear! Go on. Take a shot! I'll even pose right here in front of my bull's-eye for you!"
What of the vaunted reverence the hunter claims to hold for his noble prey? Reverence? Does this bear—this kicked and ridiculed bear—look to you like an object of worship? No, for that is not how the Church of Suicidefoodism works. Its gods are anti-gods, idols made to be broken, smashed upon the altar.
Goofybear's purpose also includes bringing in the younger crowd. The Church needs new converts, you know. Today's secular culture is doing a poor job of indoctrinating children into the joys of hunting bears. (It's not just dead bears at Kicking Bear, though. No, sir! It's also deer, coyotes, turkeys... You name it!)
Goofybear's doing his part. Bless you, Goofybear.