Category Archives: humor

It’s best from a boat, but a big rock would be a close second

iMu iPoD speaker, any flat surface transformed into an ImpalaI figure stream etiquette rightfully belongs to the Country and Western crowd, only because the million lines of anguished prose generated each season could be crooned into a double-platinum album for somebody, there’s more suffering, unrequited love, and boorish behavior than romance and breakup ever had…

It’s the only subject capable of turning fly fishermen into women, whose forums and magazines are replete with sobbing tales about, “I was low holed and wasn’t even kissed”, “he pretended I wasn’t even there” or “I called him a sumbitch and he never called back.”

Brownliners don’t have this problem because we expect the worst from our fellow man;  while other anglers are still a rarity, people aren’t  and etiquette is when the interloper relieves himself downstream of us, rather than above.

We’re “angling primitives” – quick to anger and react with handguns, clubbing weapons, or simple hand to hand, we don’t moan or leave in frustration, we just calculate how many rocks it’ll take to keep the corpse on the bottom..

One of our most productive tools for minor infractions is the iMu Vibrating speaker for the iPod:

The iMu vibrating speaker will transform any flat, hard surface into a top notch audio speaker.

Any hard surface is transformed into a vibration transmission device that’ll rival the sound of a chopped and lowered 1965 Impala.

Don’t get mad, get even.

Perch yourself on a rock shelf or large boulder that extends into the water, savor the selection of the appropriate Snoop Dog MP3, and crank the bass – watch aggressively feeding trout vanish, the waterline rise two inches, and the mannerless intruder leave in a huff.

[youtube width=”400″ height=”335″]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gz3Cc7wlfkI[/youtube]

Prolonged exposure will deafen smaller fish – which isn’t as bad as would seem, when they get bigger you can wade close without scaring many.

I’ve used Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyrie’s” on my pram for some time, we call it “announcing our presence with authority…”

Then we can enforce a two year ban if they’re caught sober

M If an ancient and venerable sport like Chess makes guys pee in a cup, why aren’t we following the trend?

… because we know the plastic would melt?

Call it a byproduct of the entire sordid Political Correctness movement, but since most of our heroes have fallen in disrepute, and only absolute fairness is acceptable, I wonder if it’s time to make the fly fishing elite submit to the catheter.

The World Games is but a short step from the Olympics, and now that the Fips-Mouche contest garners participants from every corner of the globe, shouldn’t we legitimize the sport further with scandal?

Alcohol and fly fishing are joined forever in angling lore, what with Izaak Walton the son of a bartender, and Dame Juliana Berners known for tapping the sacrament wine closet – slurring her speech even on her trademark tome, “Fysshing with an Angle.”

Whatever they missed Charles Ritz and Ernest Schweibert drank, their combined works containing more toasts than a Wonderbread bakery.

The hard part is figuring out what to ban … and if that proves overly complicated should we medicate them all to the same level?

” Potayivich, Gregor, team Serbia, weight 110 kilos, that’ll be three stiff shots of Bourbon, two Quaaludes, and a stick of Thai. Gregor, make sure you blow the Doob outside of the spectator area, understand?

… Next contestant…”

I’d consider coffee as a temporary performance enhancing drug. A couple stiff cups with breakfast enhances the first five minutes of my outing – then I’m headed for the bank to enhance bushes.

Extra padding might prevent that near fatal case of Tennis elbow

I've never fished with an angler that even resembled the model I’d never seen a book on angling injuries, and after reading how some fellow imbedded a sinker in his skull breaking loose a snag, I made the mistake of pausing.

Fit to Fish: How to Tackle Angling Injuries, sounded like it might be a quick read, possibly containing some sage advice about posture and negotiating slippery boulders; how to fall while protecting your rod, yet not breaking anything more precious.

One glimpse at the model was enough, my funny bone was piqued, and I asked myself who fishes with guys like that?

Perhaps the most famous of all Fishing is a sandwich that was stepped on earlier, and beer the temperature of the water, fishing is large breakfasts and the entire day spent fighting white water and scrambling up cliffs – with a damp cigar and creek water chaser, fishing is not rock hard muscles and taut physique.

If it was – there wouldn’t be injuries.

Certainly the most prolific angler of our day

Pictured are some of the famous anglers of our day. Known world wide for innovation, authorship, skill in casting or simulation, and have dominated the fly fishing landscape for decades.

… and there ain’t a skinny SOB amongst them.

I wouldn’t buy a car from some brawny introvert who paused to admire himself in the overhead mirror – give me some sweating fat guy that’ll lower his price just to get me to stop running all over his sales lot.

Casting Phenom

Hard core angling doesn’t fit the gym crowd, we’re not out there for the “burn” – we get burned, and as fast as our exertions melt unwanted flab, we’re quick to refill once the sun sets.

Fat guys are lippy, insouciant, and well rounded  – the kind of fellow that’s takes adverse conditions in stride, knows all the best holding water, the cleanest sheets, and which greasy spoon has homemade muffins, and can recite them even when drunk.

Fat guys know they can’t make it on looks alone – only skill will merit them a kiss from the Prom Queen.

What’s needed is more artists and humor

hughmacdonald Fly fishermen are only slightly worse than the Pro Bass circuit, we’ve got more theories and a better pedigree than Sir Isaac Newton, and enough bluster and ego to believe our own press ..

Anglers only tolerate humorists and artists for trodding on our beloved pastime – and then only reluctantly.

davidkrys I say we need more of both, keeps us focused on the important stuff … lying to the Boss and stealing an extra day off work, developing an unemotional and scientific argument for yet another rod, and why you should be allowed to go fishing Sunday.

I’ve always assumed fishing should be like sex; four seconds of bliss followed by a lengthy apology – most of my outings bear witness.

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"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Brownline Santa Twas the night before Xmas, and all through the house

No one was speaking to me, not even my spouse.

Mamma in her kerchief, In-Laws aghast

I’m focused on nothing, but tomorrows first cast.

The children cowered, alone in their bed

While visions of monstrous fish danced in my head.

When out on the drive there arose such a clatter

I leapt to the window to discern what’s the matter.

Asshole buddy, drunk and in disarray

Resolved to drive for tomorrow’s foray.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear

A Dallas Cowboy’s cheerleader, armed with beer.

More rapid than eagles my truck I did start

Leaving snoring buddy, in-laws, and Dear Heart.

Game Over

The end of modern society Normally Singlebarbed waits until New Year’s Eve to wax sentimental, a combination of cheap rotgut and a friendly ear gets us out of our antisocial fantasy-world and reminds our pals why they shouldn’t invite us … anywhere.

Some things are just too earth shattering, too horrific to contemplate and will reshape the angling world forever.

Scientists have invented the “Sex Chip” to induce the combined pleasures of eating and the “raw nasty” into the human nervous system.

How is a full dress Jock Scott going to compete with that?

Outside of the entire economy falling to pieces, dwarfing anything seen in the Great Depression, somehow we’ll still want to drive 6 hours and sleep on the cold, hard ground – versus a recliner and taping down the Red Button?

An electronic machine, named the Orgasmatron, taken from the 1973 Woody Allen film Sleeper, is already under development by a North Carolina doctor, who is modifying a spinal cord stimulator to produce pleasure in women.

Lack of spousal sex drive drove many to seek solace in the woods, with Trout merely an available and willing surrogate. Now that “Poppa’s got a brand new bag,” are we fleeing in panic, or completely enraptured?

I see the bottom falling out of the tackle industry – most industries actually, and pioneer outdoorsman replaced by couch potatoes that no longer watch even the NFL.

“In 10 years’ time the range of therapies available will be amazing – we don’t know half the possibilities yet.”

… and you won’t if you hit that red button one more time …

A Brownliner’s Christmas is like yours only there’s less people

Brownliner’s traditionally avoid holidays and the mistletoe scene despite our relish for eggnog. The wrinkled noses, pointed fingers, and whispered conversations usually results in us guzzling it out of a brown paper bag whilst perched on a tail gate – eyeballing  some unknown (and possibly) septic holding water.

Like you, Ma insists we send an Xmas list each year.

Med-E-Jet Inoculating kit

Tops on our list is the Med-E-Jet inoculation kit. Abrupt shifts in water color usually bespeak of fresh toxin and the indiscrete angler can be the unwitting host to a variety of plagues and pandemics.

With this little darling we can scrounge ammo from bankside vegetation, as medical waste and quality fishing are often hand in hand.

Most brownliner’s prefer hip waders  because it leaves both arse cheeks exposed – an ample target for the quick delivery of the appropriate antitoxin.

I’ve always preferred the ambidextrous model, allowing the use of either hand … comes with a fetching naugahyde shoulder holster.

AcuPed 50 Home Chelating Kit The AcuPed 50 Chelating kit for Health Professionals is a unanimous second choice. Few brownliner’s are squeamish – but most have stepped on enough hypodermic needles to prefer oral delivery of heavy metal detoxification remedies.

I’ve suffered through accidental bouts of heavy metal poisoning, always remember to keep your mouth closed when submerged, it’s the first and best line of defense.

Ken-Tool Brownline Preist The Ken-Tool 34645 Tire Iron is the “wading staff” of the brown water angler. It’s the most efficient way of dismounting a bothersome ATV rider regardless of their forward speed or approach angle. 

Religion is an important part of Brownlining, and in “Preist” mode, its 37″ length can be swung 30 or 40 times without pause, important when attempting to retrieve your fly from the lip of an unknown yet energetic Brownline fish.

If you encounter “crossed KT’s” imbedded in a streambed, give them a wide berth. It’s likely marking the final resting place of a fellow Brownliner – and there’s no telling whether the area has been sanitized or remains contagious..

Brownliner’s respect the beauty of their surroundings despite little respect shown us by our environment. We’re thankful for small things; an energetic and invigorating day afield, our successful return to the car, and the retrieval of all flies in between…

Tanaka Power Tree Trimmer The Tanaka Power Tree Pruner ensures that an errant cast allows us to terraform bankside vegetation in any manner we see fit, as we all have a bit of “Edward Scissorhands” – and Brownline watersheds are frequently choked with invasive flora, like barbed wire and “No Trespassing” signs. Often it’s “three with a single stone” – fly recovered, invasive species thwarted, and new holding water constructed – all with a single yank of its sturdy nylon cord.

 

Romance Doggy - Size Small Big slathering dogs are a constant source of angst among Brownliners. Farm owners delight in supplementing their diet with trespassing anglers, and traditional defensive tactics like flight or pepper spray are completely ineffective.

Usually the snarls and barking alert us to the approaching ravenous canine – buying us precious moments to inflate the Hawt Doggy.

Both time and size matters, so it’s best to keep a pocket full of “extra-large” and “monstrous” close at hand. There’s no time to be short of breath, or squeamish about the ensuing festivities – merely back away slowly once you’re no longer the object of their affection.

Kevlar, it's the choice of the Prudent angler The Brownline is the home of ersatz gunmen and aspiring gang bangers, and the safest place to be is in their sights – as most can’t hit the broad side of a barn, and indirect fire is a constant worry in every riffle and shaded pool.

Landowners and their offspring are a humorless lot and take great glee in making it difficult for the adventurous. Most use the “multiple hit theory” and spray bullets rather than aim. On the outside chance you’re hit by a grazing round, or wish to wrap your rod for protection, the camoflage Kevlar flak vest is the perfect mixture of Brown water fashion and functionality.

Without the benefit of steady traffic, most brownline watersheds are a jungle of castoff furniture bound together with blackberry vines and stinging nettles. Bait fishermen and indigents frequent the bridges and easy access points – causing tensions to flare and making unsavory conditions worse.

Beulah 11' 30 - SwitchBlade

Brambles and drunken toffs are handled easily with the Beulah Switch-Blade, an 11 foot masterwork of IM8 graphite, coupled with 30″ of hidden finely honed German steel.

A simple twist lock frees the switch handle from its reinforced IM8 sheath, giving the owner 30″ of razor sharp surgical steel to negotiate disputes over cold beer and prime water – and nullifying watershed-limiting obstacles like interlocked blackberry vines or barbed wire.

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Brownliner’s on your shopping list, and you’re looking for childlike squeals of glee once the paper’s torn? Most states outlaw fully automatic weapons – but the above should bring Christmas spirit to the most jaded angler, and ensure you’re paramount in his thoughts and the beneficiary of all his dead fish for seasons to come.

Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime

Join Now for the best seats While doling out all that cash to banks and insurance companies the Bush administration managed to find the remaining 70 million owed to the West Coast salmon fishery.

Maybe it’s my fondness for the Brotherhood, but of all the folks receiving federal aid, these lads need it least.

Fishermen have always been a proud and capable crowd, and rather than enforced idleness, what would serve the commercial fishing industry best is some of that leftover Iraqi ordinance – not money.

They’ve got the boats already, why not offload the unnecessary nets and winches – add a couple extra crews from neighboring trawlers, and go hijack some merchant shipping?

Everyone loves pirates, so why not cash in on the tanker hatch?

Middle America could enjoy a resurgent auto industry after a half dozen Nissan or Toyota container ships are met by the “Salmolian” navy and held for ransom.

We’ve got ample natural preserves off the coast to host the next “Tortuga” – throw a couple casinos on some sandy beach, add some colorful personalities wearing eye-patches and gold teeth, and it’s a poster child for self sufficiency.

Loosely allied with our government and not subject to the niceties of the Geneva convention – we could export all them hedge fund managers that were expecting to fold laundry at Club Fed, and feed them to sharks instead.

I smell a cash cow, especially with the Pay Per View royalties…

Perhaps the most important addition to your fly fishing arsenal

OptiFade was one of the best purchases I’ve ever made, and the discovery that dipping the gear in the Little Stinking’s effluent adds a watery sheen – has made it an integral part of my fly fishing arsenal.

OptiFade - the Deer's Eye View

OptiFade is a new optical pattern camouflage developed by the Gore-Tex folks, the picture at left shows what deer see.

I was able to borrow a prototype to attempt some carp sneakage, slipped in the creek and got the entire ensemble wet…

Apparently the unique combination of industrial effluents contained in the Little Stinking enhanced the land-based camo with a watery sheen, making me nearly invisible to the human eye.

Want Proof?

Me and Pal Tom, after the tour How about me standing next to Tom Chandler, after he’s revealed all his Upper Sacramento Secret Spots unknowingly…

It sure was cold that day, and I’m still feeling guilty Wally the Wonderdog got blamed for clipping Tom’s fine sandwich – but I was starving…

It appears that Gore-Tex is going to cut me in for a piece of the pie. Up till now I’ve held out the “mysterious formula” that makes the water-camo, faithful Singlebarbed readers will get a discount – but I want a piece of whatever you shoplift.

“Secrets of the Upper Sacramento” (as writ by hisself) available from Amazon.com – just in time for Christmas.

If we introduced Trout Lifecycle in auto shop they might understand the connection

Sir Isaac Lays it Down for small block Chevies It’s a heartwarming article to be sure, local volunteers from Trout Unlimited introducing “Trout in the Classroom” to the bright, eager eyeballs of youth.

Emily Sklenka, a 10-year-old Bristol girl, said watching the eggs hatch and the trout grow will be “really cool.” She said she likes that the fish eye is already visible.

My question would be – when does a small block Chevy thrown off a bridge become “cooler?” Sure, it’s the same impressionable eyeballs doing the deed – enraptured by Natural Order, and balance in Nature, but was it the Physics professor that turned all those potential naturalists into hooligans?

The answer has to be somewhere’s in the 10 to 20 age range; covering Junior High, High School, and the subsequent two years of lounging around deciding what to do next.

“If we didn’t teach them how to eat, they would probably starve,” Swanson said. He told the students that some of the trout won’t be clever enough to survive because they won’t figure out how to eat.

“Some fish just don’t get it,” said Swanson. Those fish, he said, are called pinheads because their body never fills out to match their enlarged heads.

Then again, we could be dealing with the Natural Course Of Things, only our pinheads fill out just fine –  they just have to be taught to work rather than eat. That’s the theory Dad used, but I was hoping it was the Physics professor, I guess I’m still smarting over the ” a tone-deaf little weasel” epithet.