Without all that meticulous planing, hand sanding and the careful assembly of six equal strands of historic weed, is a shellacked cane pole worth $695?

Tenkara fans seem to think so. Or is it the nose-inna-air purist tenkara fans that insist on the natural mats? Fishing being what it is; the last bastion of opinionated SOB’s that aren’t watching NASCAR – each fringe group simply can’t be happy without inventing some cash merit-badge so they can flash gang sign in the parking lot.

Otherwise, a cane pole would be easily mistaken for a curtain rod or the butt-end of a broom, so they shellac it shiny and call the fellow that made it “doctor.”

For about $9 Montgomery Wards offered the literal version, outfitted fetchingly with naugahyde faux-cane bole and matching smoking weskit.

But for the spendthrift who derives his stature only by the volume of dead presidents plunked onto the glass, stick with the rarified Tenkara stuff. Me, I would never buy a rod from a doctor unless it was his estate sale – and then I’d be expecting a discount.

Instead I’d rather dump coin on some toothless fellow with an infectious grin, likely called “Pappy” whose been supplementing his social security check by guiding big city swells with a battered johnboat and a rusty Evinrude.

While I don’t believe for a second that Tenkara is the purest form of anything, I do believe what Pappy’s drinking may be the purest corn ever exhaled …