This weekend I’ll be painting Didymo on them rocks with a spatula.
I’ll be the fellow whose 4 X 4 axles will be glowing white hot as I mash my way through cottonwoods and willows and into your favorite pool – there to dismount the smoking wreck while it dribbles petroleum products into the Pristine.
… and all of my flies will be tied on treble hooks.
Just a reminder that this weekend you can toss all that nose-inna-air bologna while you’re laying waste to whatever flavor of Sweet you’ve felt threatened by … As Ms. Claudette mentions so eloquently below, everything’s peachy if you can catch a church service sometime before Saturday …
… and if you aren’t a Good Christian like me and the rest of my yellow eJournalist pals, we’ll be taking our chances with Cletus, his 4X4, and a couple icy 24 packs of Go-Girl.
We’ll be pounding your favorite riffle with “Dagwood” sandwiches made of Triscuits and alternating layers of cream cheese and Bighead Carp roe.
Suck it, wimps.


I remember the elevated tempers and harsh language when they contemplated NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement. Senators would pound fist on podium insisting it wasn’t fair to us and how the abolished tariffs and transparent borders would benefit our neighbors much more than ourselves.
I wouldn’t worry too much unless you tie dry flies or fish for steelhead. Your prayers of this being an overnight fad are simply not working …
As most of you already know, mosquitoes ferret us out due to the CO2 we exhale. Ditto for anything else that sucks blood, and why entomologists lay dry ice on a white blanket and run for their lives …
