As it’s not Mssr. Pitt and a bevy of nubiles, it’ll be under the radar of most. But with Woman & Home giving it a thumbs up, how can it miss.
Contains rod-fu, salmon-fu, and droll UK humor, the perfect recipe for a chaste run at the Oscars.
Once the fishermen find out it’s an island they’ll scatter to the four winds hoping they can scrounge some old monofilament and feed the less fortunate members of the tribe. Once they see the size of the local Bonefish they’ll insist on Catch & Release – or some form of ultra-purism – which’ll piss off the camera crew and producer, who’ll trade an off camera Bologna sandwich to the swing vote – sending Mr. Fisherman packing …
My money is on the hunters. Fishermen are wound too tight and lack the social niceties to survive the group scene. They’ll skip the all important backstabbing alliances; “I’ll give you my last pair of dry socks if you vote for Betty” whispered at the council fire, and then disappear for hours when they should be doing tribal chores.
Another in a long line of trashy reality shows, pitting 12 outdoorsy types against insurmountable hardships like; running out of shampoo, not wearing a cowboy hat, throwing a temper tantrum at a Chevron vending machine, keeping a Boy Scout Troop pinned down while rifling their foodstuffs, and exposing the lean Marlboro Outdoorsy is prone to fits of childish rage when wearing a grass skirt in mosquito country, without any protective mint Skoal …
“The Ultimate Sportsman” slated to air Thursdays at 10:00AM EST, 2010 on Versus is a premier hunting and fishing reality
TV series. Twelve contestants will have the opportunity to participate in a series of hunting and fishing adventures
throughout North America.
You can apply for the freebie fishing via their website. As a film of yourself is involved, you may want to practice that steely grimace – where you discover salmon eggs are mixed with your JuJuBee’s …
It’s plain these fellows don’t know the difference and don’t care to know.
13) If you were going to be in People magazine, what inside info about you would be put up next to your picture?
17) List your past experiences with hunting and fishing. If you have no past experience with hunting or fishing then explain your
intentions for wanting to be introduced to the sport of hunting
and fishing!
… and don’t really care, they’re mining ratings and are desperately seeking drama queens in camoflage. I think they’re hoping someone will respond as below:
Hunting and fishing seems like a lot of fun, but I actually prefer running around a darkened campsite brandishing sharp objects and wearing a hockey mask.
Throw in some poor sport blowing daylight through a doe, and two fellows caught stuffing lead shot down a trout’s gullet – and it’s pure ratings gold.
All I had to do was read any of my past posts to recognize “I don’t measure up”, yet PETA had to send me a zinger just the same …
They’re on the warpath, and with the death of the UK’s famous “Two Tone” carp, PETA erected a billboard to chastise local anglers …
I’ve often wondered whether dry fly purists weren’t compensating for something, but I hadn’t trod the masculinity route. I’d left it at thinking these were the kids whose Ma cut the crusts off their PB & J, and they still had a chip on their shoulders.
PETA delights in bearding the prophet, nearly as much as we like laughing over their latest protest. This episode is no exception, featuring the debut of DoAnglersHaveSmallRods.com – which hosts a test to determine whether the water is both … cold … and deep.
Finding out about my shortcomings doesn’t redden my cheeks a bit. What’s really going to be funny is when “Casper Milquetoast” knocks at my door to borrow a power tool, and he gets an abacus and a scratch awl to repair his roof.
“Yo, Casper, looking a little damp there, Sweetheart. Is that madam’s chamber pot you’re emptying – Wow, I bet she is pissed, huh?”
I had wondered whether the e-zine phenomena was a reflection of the US fly fisherman and the paucity of quality reading material we’re forced to endure. With a blizzard of product surfacing, it might be that us colonials are practiced at grass-roots insurrection, and therefore unashamed to show our collective discontent.
Then again, it may be a world wide angling issue and like all asexual invasives, it just takes a little time to gain a foothold in more rarified venues.
Instead it may be the colonial thing, what with New Zealand entering the fray with an e-zine featuring horribly colorful and obese trout whose obscene lust for feathers will make you shield your child’s vision, lest they be tainted forever …
We missed the first issue, but it’s available online.
Flyfishers Inc. is in the stunning photography coffee table mode, where you quickly leaf through the pictures in awe, yet there’s little text to accompany the work. Each issue features a reader poll, which is a hint of interactivity, something not yet seen in the US versions.
Something to consume with your lunchtime sandwich.
Thesis – Rough Cut – V1 from Henry Harrison on Vimeo.
A rare, quiet commentary on the sport free of the chest-pounding neo-warrior us-versus-everybody-else extremism.
Is it possible that with all our efforts to stratify “cool guys” from mere fishermen, and despite all the pressures from gear mongers and advertising, that somewhere back in our collective psyche exists a tie that binds us all forever?
You don’t have to admit anything – and can watch this short piece in the privacy of your own Fortress of Solitude, but if you’re daubing a tear at the scenery and message – you may be just like the rest of us.
Tags: Henry Harrison, fly fishing video, us-versus-everybody-else, extremism, fly fishing
Per the Trout Underground’s scoop about the pending production of “The River Why” – comes the news of who’s actually in the feature. William Hurt and Amber Heard have been given the nod for two of the starring roles in the production.
William Hurt plays the father, and Ms. Heard the “tomboyish love interest.” On the surface little about Ms. Heard appears roughshod, we’ll hold our Oscar vote until we’ve seen her cast.
OK, I’ll withhold my vote, the rest of you can sell yourselves cheaply.
Who actually plays “Gus” the protagonist is immaterial – you fellows are circling calendar dates based on the above picture alone. I’d read the book in case you get grilled on the plot after dropping your popcorn from nerveless fingers.
I’m completely jealous, first bass fishing, now even sailfish angling has big money contests – replete with bikini clad babes, corpulent sponsors, grandiose prizes, free champagne, and opulent spreads of free food.
So why did trout fishing get shut out of the cash bonanza?
The knee jerk response: “trout fishing is the quiet sport practiced by introverts that wish to commune with their natural surroundings.”
Sounds good on the surface, but it’s too close to the prose used to brush off a second date, too”politically correct” and it’s time to face the harsh truth, we’re a quaint, boring lot.
There, I’ve said it … took me ten grand worth of shrink to utter them words, but I’m feeling better by the moment.
Too many predator poses leaning expectantly over a foppish rod intent on floating dander in midstream – praying we’re gonna outwit something while the camera’s focused on our hindquarters. Waders preclude those from being photogenic, so our audience is left to shudder and look elsewhere.
Trout fishing is going backwards, not forwards. We deify the tackle and technique of decades past, and ignore the compelling technological innovations of the present; strobe lights, sirens, and text messaging.
Witness the latest from Zebco, they’re not bemoaning the demise of cane or fiberglass, they’ve got blinking red lights for “bite alerts” and liberally use “glow in the dark” materials so’s you don’t step on your rod when reaching for beer. That’s tangible advancement of the sport, not fiddling with decimal points in modulus and gross weight, whose benefit is lost even on the owner.
We need to focus on the audience, rather than on our own passions, we need to turn trout fishing into a spectacle.
We got SUV’s, they got SUV’s, we just need to imbed ours in a riverbank once or twice. Mother Nature is fine for the ecology types, but the way we spray discarded water bottles, tippet dispensers, and leader wrappers proves we spend more time trying to look up her skirt then ensuring She’s chaste … the glee with which you park your SUV in the streambed should be commensurate.
To hell with elitism, we tried that at least a couple hundred years and have declining participation to show for it – what this sport needs is a good doping scandal. Some fellow wearing an umpire uniform gazing sternly at some other 
fellow, waders around his ankles, pissing into a plastic cup. Roger Clemens & Wife was “yesterday’s news” until the rest of the world discovered all that lycra-spandex hid needle tracks, now they’re likely to vote her into the Hall of Fame as well.
A little “dirty” means huge endorsement dollars – a yearly television contract, and attention from Nike. We’ve had popes and presidents, astronauts and test pilots, and we’re still not invited to the “show.” What’s needed is some debauched starlet hanging on the arm of a Yellowstone guide, or some quaint angling association popped for running a Meth lab…
No single camera can showcase the sport properly and we’ll need assistance from the NFL to catch the action. We could have yellow lines marking the feeding lanes, penalty flags when numbed fingers are unable to change flies fast enough, and cheerleaders. What they’ll do I’m not sure – but it’ll give the camera something to focus on when competitors start swearing loudly.
Most of all we need pratfalls; some helpless SOB moonwalking on slimy rocks desperate to maintain balance, and failing miserably. A sanctimonious oaf droning on about the lifecycle of Mayflies, desperately avoiding the word “screw” – then going arse over teakettle with only an oil slick to mark the spot.
We’ll treat them with respect, we’ll pay enormous cash prizes and allow them to hawk tackle during the off season, but they’ve got to eat 12 gallons of icy Gatorade in their waders on a win.
I’ll stack our babes against their babes any day. Sure we’ve got mighty few of them, but they’re all lean, hungry, and have as many wardrobe malfunctions as anything on MTV. Our gals ain’t wallflowers, and can hold a conversation, a stark contrast to Miss Ford-Lincoln-Mercury whose there merely to drape herself on whatever is closest to the trophy.
Perhaps it’s tiresome that only PETA has an interest in us, were they to sponsor a couple of tournaments, we’d rethink the entire fishing issue.
Technorati Tags: bass tournament, sailfish, Gatorade, Hi Mom
On first blush I assumed it was more proof of a coming apocalypse, another dark day for anglers, as well muscled “male-like substance” took turns looking grim, stern, or virile, while adorned with technical fishing attire.
New Clothing Brand Seeks Make-up Artist for Advertising Campaign
Diem Angling, a new clothing company designing technical and fashion wear for anglers worldwide, are organising a photoshoot to take place on the Saturday 26th and Sunday 27th January 2008. The shoot is an FHM style shoot and we plan to shoot 12 models over the 2 days and we require a competant make-up artist to assist us.
I was about to take them to task as angling is less about makeup, and more “what you got spattered with.” Airbrushes are fine, but all that’s needed is a liberal dousing of Muskol, roll the result down a dirt incline, then dip them in a creek a couple times.
That’s fishing.
The “FHM” reference gave me pause, so I took the trouble to look it up. It’s no longer an item to ridicule, it’s your bloody dream job. FHM is a european men’s magazine, and the “models” described above would have to be … you guessed it … Women.
Despite legendary airbrush skills I’m unable to do much more than sulk. For those stalwarts in the UK, you lucky bastards still have a chance to get there before dawn.
Technorati Tags: FHM, makeup artist, angling fashion, choose me
I thought I was doing TC a favor, knowing his propensity for ungainly concoctions involving tube steak smothered in coagulated greasemeat with faux-coleslaw topping. I was prepared to cut him in on a real culinary masterpiece.
The Strawberry-Milk Fish Dog.
Naturally I gave him first shot at blog coverage, but instead of kudos and the promise of everlasting friendship, I get a note slipped under my door:
“You suck. If I see you north of Red Bluff, me and the homies are going to put a cap in your azz.”
Singlebarbed gets notes like this all the time, we laugh in the face of Death – traditionally during our morning commute, but other times too…
What struck me was the eloquence, the simplistic prose, the style unmistakably Tom Chandler. The prominent copyright confirmed my suspicions.
I can only assume that as Singlebarbed has scooped him on the sacred culinary scene, he’s bitter and resentful. Then again, he may have actually ate one, worse yet, fed a couple to Wally and the L&T Nancy.
Jesus.
“What sets the real thing apart from all slaw-dog wannabe’s is the curried cabbage shreds, as well as the karashi (hot mustard) infused sauce slathered all over the top. Since the fish sausage has so little flavor, the main flavor comes from the karashi, the cabbage, and the white bread bun. In a word: blah”
I figured the above billing would suit them Mighty Woodsmen of Dunsmuir just fine, they way they tell it – they run down their game barefoot, and eat the meal at the squat.
I may have to go up there and make nice…
Technorati Tags: strawberry milk fish hotdog, Trout Underground, Deep Yogurt
