GQ magazine was kind enough to share a tidbit with me on America’s Best Fishing, which confirmed our worst fears on the burgeoning Metrosexual Menace…
Detroit, San Diego, and Charleston, South Carolina. No mention of the piney woods, clean water, or any activity liable to soil a silk shirt. “The Real Outdoors” is for vacationing family guys, or worse, hideous and boring father-son outings.
But there is a better way to fish. You don’t have to buy waders or waste a long weekend in neck-beard country. We’ve found places where you can spend a day kicking back on the water, rod in hand, trolling for redfish—or, hell, battling a shark— then hit the city for a mind-blowing dinner and a stiff drink.
- via GQ.com
There’s considerable silver lining knowing the fashion conscious won’t be crowding us for space on the creek. While we’ve had numerous dinners that “blew”… the only “mind blowing” meal in recent memory was finding a room temperature sliver of beef jerky from last season, which I gulped gratefully with a palm full of branch water.
That image is a load of shit. There is no dock. The lake is a mosquito-infested bog twenty-three miles outside Moosejaw. And our grandpappy was a mean drunk who smelled like a Burlington Coat Factory.
I love it when they get all masculine and “edgy” … but they wilt soon enough when they find there’s no place to plug in a blow dryer.