As I read through the latest ICAST summary on how technology is improving fishing, my initial reaction was very predictable … like all codgers before me I snorted and swore mighty oaths as to how the Planet was going to Hell …

… then I remembered doing that same dance when they elected “Gee-Dubya” the second time, and as the Planet hadn’t ended abruptly then – I started seeing some of the humor in all of this.

The lure of Technology has always been our passion of what it might mean rather than what it actually does well. While it may have obsolesced Bobby Fischer and the Abacus, it certainly hasn’t yielded the Paperless Office – nor has it stopped AT&T from sending me a bill for one penny, when the cost to mail it was 43 cents.

I suppose my generation, and those before me, sought the Great Outdoors and the Manly Pursuits as a means of “unplugging” from kids, spouses, and careers, so it’s not surprising that I sputter and flirt with the apoplectic at the thought of requiring a cell phone to catch a trout.

Whether it’s Elon Musk and his LEO’s (low earth orbit satellites) or Google and their stratospheric balloons, it won’t be too much longer until every crevasse and canyon has tolerable reception.  Flexible solar cells are commonplace already, so SIMM’s and Columbia will jump at the opportunity to add some thick, hot, layer of silica into our vest and hat,  so we can perspire profusely while looking fetchingly urbane …

We’ll have drones with GoPro’s scanning the surface for working fish,  and lures that make noises like trout copulating …

… and with all this technology and water-resistant innovation, we’ll get to look forward to interruption from timewasting buddies, political action groups, census takers, and our asshole pal that said he was going to go … and then flaked when his wife reminded him of his familial responsibilities.

“Hey Bob, catch any?”

“Ted – hey, can you call back later, man … the hatch is in full swing and I … fuck, missed one … “

“I knew it. I knew you weren’t going to catch anything, glad I stayed home – Oh, later Man … wife’s calling … [click]”

Rather than being incensed at the notion of having an “electronic leash” tying me to the mundane, the source of my mirth being  despite all the advances in technology and aerospace materials that enable this modern communication miracle, the incredibly important message that interrupts your evening hatch remains unchanged for codgers and millennials alike :

“What’s up?”

Nada. What’re you doing?”

Nothing. Hey you got any dope?”

Technology may well revolutionize fishing and life in general, but human nature and timewasting pals are impervious to both megabits and megabytes, and are Kryptonite to any technological Superman.