The cover of the Wall Street Journal has taken our dirty little secret into the hallowed halls of the mainstream.
I figured to make the paper at some point, but assumed it would be some small obituary when they found me sprawled lifeless across a rusting Ford buried in the bank, fly rod clutched in cold, blue fingers.
It’s like reading wanted posters at the post office; Roughfisher, Urban Flyfisher, Trout Underground, Fat Guy Fly Fishing, and Michael Gracie all mentioned prominently with our beloved sport.
Initially I had trouble recognizing the parties mentioned as the author uses “Mister” and our given names. Brownliners prefer the familiar to address each other, with monikers akin to “Nosebleed”, “Meathead”, or “Buckwheat.”
The next step would include a major motion picture deal, but there’s not enough portly stout sweaty and overweight leading men to cover our merry band.
Big props man! We all knew you would be famous someday. Celebratory party?
Instead of Mr. Deneen, I prefer “Fat Guy Kyle”, or “Chunk”, or even “Wide Load Deneen”, or how about my nick name, “Kyle ‘Old Balls One Fin’ Deneen”
Since you are kinda portrayed as the godfather, we’re slated to go trespassing and then rat you out.
Whatever lays between condolences and congratulations- you guys deserve that word.
I’m more used to the monikers, “Hey asshole”, or “Governor Fuckhead”.
First the Journal adds sports, now this? Guess someday I’ll say I knew that guy when…
Dear Mr. Barton,
I knew that once Murdoch took over the Journal they’d eventually write a story about you.
Congratulations on your recognition.
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KB – Kudos for the well deserved recognition for brownliners around the world. You’ve inspired a post on our site and a proposal.
I’ll trade you 2 or 3 days in Yellowstone touring some of our best spots if you’ll show us the brownliner ropes on your waters. I can even see a brownliner feature in the next Drake Fly Fishing Film Festival – we’ll shoot and co-produce it with you…..it could be shown in the best bars and roadkill eateries everywhere…..
Mark and the gang
I can see it now. You and your road crew riding the Greyhound to all of the finest Brownline holy waters in Detroit, Cleveland, and Pittsburgh; hawking “Crapper” carp rods and preaching the evils of the slawdog.
Next will be The Enquirer, the Movies, where you will become so valuable to the industry they will probably require you to have a double to fish in your native haunts.
Beware of Greed.
So, do Brownliner’s where special gloves? If you scratch your nose is there a chemical burn? I have been trying for 3 years to catch arrogant carp in a slough near my house…even the humor aside, you have given me a new technique to consider and set the floater aside…Cool
SwittersB
@Switters –
‘Arrogant’ is harsh. Think of them as ‘charismatic’.
I just got off the phone with Ma, her comment,” the paper says YOU done it, why’d you lead all them nice cleancut boys astray?”
Like a good son, I replied, ” Ma, CHUNK did it!”
Kyle, make for the outback she’s got a bar of soap with her …
HAHA, Run Kyle! Run!
And so now that the big name sponsors are lining up, Do you take Swisher Sweets and shun the Hardy Brothers or do you take Sage and shun Budwieser?
Swisher Sweets and Hormel are hounding me … I just can’t fathom which ersatz meat-like substance is best suited for a half page ad.
No, sponsors are not likely for our fetid little corner of the waterway.
Secret’s out, get ready to rub elbows with and dodge back casts from the type that read this rag. Might I suggest you now target bighead?
While the WSJ article was impressive, I anticipate even greater accomplishments in a future “brownlining” Playboy story.