Category Archives: humor

The last rod you’ll ever need

It’s been an arduous wait, but I’d promised a revolutionary step in fly rod design and pricing, and by all that’s Holy, I’ve delivered…

Introducing the Singlebarbed “Crapper” rod, just in time for Christmas – and with a sturdy “one size fits all” system allowing a non-fisherperson to head for the counter knowing they’re purchasing the right rod.

For the older angler, the Crapper blank has been hand painted in Bamboo® to assist adoption of contemporary fibers and rod construction.

The Crapper features a two piece design, and a revolutionary Cork® grip with adjustable reel seat that accommodates both Spey, Switch, and conventional grips.

Traditional Seat

Sulphated Bismuth-Gallium Arsenide® (BiGaS2) retainers are the latest advance in reel seat technology, featuring all weather, corrosion proof, condiment resistant, shock absorbing, reel seat security – that adjusts on the fly, often in mid cast. 

Whether you prefer the traditional grip, “switch” style, or European Spey, a simple twist and slide will reset your grip, facilitating both roll casts and complex spey casts.

switch / Spey style with the BiGasS2 reel seat iPhone users can purchase the optional Spey Hero II® add-on that assists in teaching the rhythm and timing of the “Reverse Snap ‘T’ ” and “Duck on a Hot Plate” casts.

You’ve had a pretty rod, you’ve owned a pretty expensive rod, isn’t it about time you owned a pretty damned good rod?

Speedsloped guides,ThreadZ, and Pure X The Crapper features vibration dampening ThreadZ® that serve to reduce rod reverb, transferring the “Y” and “Z” plane energy into Pure X®. Pure X® technology adds dozens of yards to your cast through SpeedSloped Guides® and longer thread wraps on the tip side of each guide – serving as a PowerReservoir® of energy that will grant you long effortless casts free of tedium.

“In our factory we make rods, on the stream we make Heroes.”

Sidestep to the Singlebarbed difference, wade with confidence, cast with authority, and lie like the Big Dog.

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Felix Lighter never laughed at MI6

jamesBond I’m thinking there’s some kind of shadow organization behind it all; some dotCom wunderkind with half the assets of the planet – some heiress with a “mad on” – some sheik or warlord sitting on a mountain of precious resources, owning enough periodicals and media outlets to wage a Jihad against anglers.

Today’s headlines are just one salvo among many..

Hitler’s favorite meal was trout.

There’s a couple dozen Bond movies with sinister organizations whose existence is enmeshed with crackpot scientists, egoists, and semi-evil women with massive breasts. World domination or “nuking everyone” is a prevalent theme, followed only by the “spaceship behind a comet” snuffing of life on the planet.

GM is “angling” for a bailout.

What bully would have the assets, inclination, or where-with-all to conduct a war-to-the-death with fishermen with only them throwing punches?

Are you guys a bunch of bottom feeders – and what sin did we commit to earn this indignity?

My youth taught me to expect sinister; back then it was the warmongering industrialist apparatchik that spawned most of the evil, but government is broke – so it can’t be them…

A “Trout Pout” is an unimaginable crime.

Something horrible is at work and we’re sunning ourselves like fat arsed Carp unaware of the Osprey’s speedy descent.

Yes, but it’ll be a hearty welcoming mucous filled handshake

It makes me wonder how many world record fish I’ve caught and released unknowingly. I’d guess it’s linked to the concept of “life list” – all the species you’ve ever caught fishing by intent or accident.

She set a world record in the 2-pound tippet category by catching a 2-pound, 6-ounce bonefish while fly fishing July 27 off Andros Island in the Bahamas.

We’re used to a certain margin of safety on tippet sizes, often we’ve got at least a 2 to 1 advantage based on weight, yet all of us have been lucky or surprised by a big fish, or were caught with too small a tippet by a medium sized fish – and were evenly matched.

Figuring all the popular fish like trout, salmon, and steelhead, are out of our reach, that leaves about 99% of the world’s fish where catching a 2lb fish on 2lb test gets you an olive wreath …

I figured the IGFA as playing to the “glamour” trade; ascots, white deck shoes, dinners with fine china and guest speakers, not the crowd we rub shoulders with while idling a battered truck at the drive-thru window.

In fact, I’m almost sure the effete crowd is running things, you can’t even look up the IGFA records without being a member.

…and that suits me fine, when the “Commodore” gives me that haughty stare as I stand there with some flaccid, dripping, caustic brownwater fish – who proceeds to burp up a tampon on his dress slacks, we’ll be sure to give him a hearty back slap and a mucous filled hand shake.

The world record Sacramento Pikeminnow (according to the IGFA) is 6lb 15 ounces, which surprises me considerably, as I’ve caught fish nearly this heavy already. Likely I was using 3x or 4x tippet – but now that the flashbulbs are popping and the Commodore has finished rinsing off, it was most definitely 2 lb test …

I saw no entry for Sacramento Sucker so if any of you hardened adventurer’s want a shot at a world record, I’ll be happy to show you where they sleep at night.

… they glow, it’s a cinch.

The original article gave me a bit of pause …

Forszpaniak said she has been fishing for two years. Her husband instructed her on her fly fishing technique when they practiced at area beaches.

What husband hands his wife a bonefish rod with only a 2lb tippet? I figure it must’ve been a senior ranking IGFA official who was scared his wife was going to outfish him. I’m not the only thing that smells to high heaven…

Happy Thanksgiving

There’s football on the “Telly” – Ma’s in a panic in the kitchen, and your only responsibilities are to lounge around and overeat to the point of complete folly..

 

Here’s hoping everyone made it to your table safely, and there’s enough couch space to accommodate the Thanksgiving Food Induced Coma that follows…

 

We won’t discuss all the white tipped Turkey tail we’ve consumed this season – turkey’s have it hard enough already.

The most dangerous encounter a fly fisherman can expect?

I hadn’t ever considered the high risk nature of the hobby, but after reading the recital of ills, they missed tromping on medical waste while wading, but that’s a recent hazard – known only to us locals.

...and they left out all the really deadly stuff

There’s a lot we take for granted, mostly because it’s home turf and we’ve seen most of the repertoire; bears, mountain lions, rattlesnakes, are all part of the surroundings. While we’re often surprised by their appearance, most of us know how to conduct themselves properly and not elevate the risk.

Our California Brown and Black bears may seem fearsome to those unacquainted with them, but they’re mostly curious and hungry – not looking for a confrontation. Bear cubs start me backpedaling in a hurry, however.

Places like Alaska and Montana have real bears and multiple critters that can stomp a human without breaking a sweat. Despite the long list of perils I can’t believe they missed the most dangerous foe in the woods:

  • The typical McDonald’s meal ingested at sea level, prior to the climb to altitude, and subsequent stoppage of normal body function.

Almost all of my near death experiences have a pre-dawn departure with some fellow in the back seat insisting on coffee and an Egg McMuffin. It’s Old Scratch whispering in your ear – and we fall for it every single time.

Modern Dentistry lags angling by a couple of decades

There’s too close a parallel between a visit to the dentist and angling.

Some hammy handed stranger wads steel in your mouth – and while you flop helplessly in the chair, they comment on all your imperfections, take pictures and then release you with a smirk.

Makes me wonder whether fish have the same reaction – disappearing from view and shaking their head to rinse the finger flavor out.

I floss regularly, especially on traditional dress salmon flies and wets – but I’m constantly scolded I’m not flossing enough. I tell him I prefer natural dubbing over floss, and I get that same pained expression – just before he punctuates the message by strumming a nerve ending.

Are we being fished, and is that the root cause of our fear? All my appointments are morning and evening, corresponding to the periods of peak fish activity. The hygienists are largely attractors – yet it doesn’t appear they’ve embraced important tenets like Matching the Hatch.

You’d assume that an 8:00AM appointment wouldn’t limit the choices of fluoride to Strawberry or Bubblegum. I’d rinse savagely if they offered  Bacon and Eggs or Coffee, perhaps evening sessions should include Steak or Chicken Chow Mein rinse, or perhaps a couple fingers of Scotch.

Too much circumstantial evidence not to make an angler uneasy, as dental terminology and fly fishing share common ground:

Bite stick vs fly rod – something the dentist wads in your mouth to determine bite alignment. Something a fly fisherman throws in disgust when he isn’t bit.

Drift vs Drift – unwanted teeth movement. Unwanted fly movement.

Space maintainer vs thrown rock – a device that preserves the gap between teeth when a tooth is removed. A device that preserves the gap between fishermen when a fisherman is removed.

Forensic dentistry vs Catch and eviscerate – The area of dentistry that assists the legal and law enforcement community. The kind of fishing where a really big hook is removed from a really small fish, typically accompanied by squeezing too hard while wrestling steel from soft tissue.

Ernest Syndrome vs Ernest Schweibert syndrome – A facial pain syndrome typified by spontaneous pain on the side of the face. A pained expression that results when the fish is neither trout nor salmon, or Scotch is blended versus a single malt.

Cleft Lip/Palate vs Catch and Release –  A common craniofacial defect in which the upper lip and nose form incorrectly during embryonic development. An imperfection in the face of a salmonid caused by catch and release regulations during embryonic development.

Air Abrasion vs Poorly tied –  A resurgence of an old technique whereby cavities are prepared with a device similar to a sandblaster. The spontaneous decomposition of a fly due to inexperienced tyer and heavy handed casting.

Hare Lip vs Hare’s Ear –  A politically incorrect and historical term for a cleft lip. A political incorrect term for scalping a defenseless bunny and insisting the crime was warranted.

Too damn much common ground for us not to dread the bi-annual gauntlet of pain and suffering. It might be the proof positive that fish do feel pain.

I’m scheduled for an early morning dissection, I’ve found that if you scream and swear enough the hygienist will flee in panic, allowing you to palm a half dozen root canal tools – they’re great dubbing teasers.

I just need an Oral Surgeon with a sense of humor

Nothing a little floss couldn't fix Face it, we’re in the wrong line of work.

Your parent’s tried to steer you down the path; the prestige of having M.D or D.D.S on a business card, white lab coats and fawning assistants – but no, we cut class, smoked cigarettes and took the gentlemen’s path through all that heady coursework.

For me an “offsite” meeting describes some feel-good séance where I struggle to remain awake. Lead by some Armani-clad charismatic that berates me for my archaic notions of work ethic, chastises me for not employing [insert cutting edge acronym here] management style, and shudders at the thought I don’t coddle my peers or provide milk and cookies..

I tolerate the initial barrage, knowing I can get an uninterrupted nap when I point out that GM and AIG used whatever philosophy is being peddled – and a fat lot of good it did them.

They usually stop calling on me after that.

If I’d stuck to the straight and narrow – I could’ve cut quite the figure in a white lab coat, and all my seminars would’ve involved a float plane and a vendor picking up the tab…

Streamside Seminars LLC is an organization dedicated to presenting a quality dental/medical educational experience in a beautiful fishing environment.

Our destination seminars include places where mother nature has done some of her best work.

… so you can take a big dull hook and rearrange all that symmetry, gasp at the damage –  run back to the Lodge and pull the oral surgeon out of the bar so’s he can test that new root canal auger?

That sounds kind of sweet – and figuring you’ll eventually find a prankster of like mind, you can throw a set of crowns on a big Brown, and scare hell out of next week’s guests.

“Esthetics Without Compromise”
This course presents an opportunity for in-depth analysis of the esthetic needs of your patient, the science behind vital tooth esthetics and chair-side time considerations.

The trip is $5000 and the fee for the course $200, the classic boondoggle wherein some leggy pharma-representative hawks the benefits of a pricey procedure to guys intent on breakfast so they can be first in line for the boats that don’t leak.

Still sounds a helluva lot better than a high pitched lecture from a scented Marshmallow.

Mix Peppermint Schnapps and a case of anything and it’s extreme something

I’m with John Merwin, but having had some experience in this area, I’ll decipher the part that’s giving him trouble…

It’s entitled, “Extreme Rock Fishing” – there’s a rock, some fishing, and it’s got a Metallica riff in the background. The words aren’t supposed to be a sentence – which is why it’s so difficult to understand.

It’s extreme because it has an bootlegged Metallica song – you can’t have elevator music or a light pop tune, it doesn’t make the participants on the fringe of society, isolated … a shining beacon of light in a dismal sea of conformity.

… and when Lars finds out you didn’t pay royalties for his tune, a very conformist brigade of lawyers in his employ will bust a cap in your bottom. Lars likes his music, but likes money better.

There’s a big rock in deep water, accessible only by boat – giving the extreme-carousing fishermen a chance to hide the jug if their spouse comes looking.

Rods and detached reel are bolted to the rock so that when the extreme drinking reaches a fever pitch, nobody kicks someone’s tackle into the depths when reaching for munchies or attempting to pee.

We did this in High School, only we called it “Extreme Muni Pier Fishing.” You take two cases of beer, mix that with a fifth of apricot brandy or Peppermint Schnapps, 3 pounds of raw squid, big hooks, and a boat rod.

When the squid tasted good, it meant you’d had too much to drink.

Of course chumming was illegal, vomiting wasn’t.

… and Mr. Merwin, the rod is there to keep the “million pound test” line off the rocks. Large fish plus tight line touching rock equals severed line and the angler missing a limb when the tension is released.

It appears the fish are cranked in close by the winch, the rod is lifted so they can gaff the beast, then it’s hand over hand from there.

I think “Extreme Lawn Chair Drinking” and the extreme hangover that followed is one of the reasons I gravitated to fly fishing. Certainly, the light line and lack of weight made the battle with fish so much more attractive, but as wisdom overtook youth – the extreme rowboat bass drinking, and extreme sturgeon beer guzzling lost it’s luster.

The first Catch and Release, artificial only, single barbless Brownline fishery – and I’m planting flag

Trophy Roundtail Chub The Ghost of Charles F. Orvis is rattling about in mock anguish and we’re unimpressed. He’s had his heyday and legion of devotees, now it’s time for a little rough and tumble – where last year’s Ford preempts the gleaming Eurotrash roadster, and brown water licks your boots…

I figured it had to be a western state with the foresight and gumption to make the first “Catch and Release, artificial fly and lure-only (single barbless hook) fishery” for Chub, mainly because half of the western states have run out of clean water – and the other half are busy seeding clouds or siphoning under the Rockies while acting innocent.

Yea, you saw that correctly … CHUB.

Little misunderstood, roman nosed trash fish hits the bigtime – and can the four star resort be that far behind?  Singlebarbed applauds the Arizona Game and Fish department – and confers upon them the  distinguished title of Official Patron of the Brown Arts.

It’s a clone of my Little Stinking, featuring the rare and endangered Colorado Pikeminnow, smallmouth bass, and a bevy of brownline beauties sought by nobody and scorned by everyone else.

Hell, I won’t even have to shower, – and the first trout I catch will be thrown up onto the bank to suffocate – along with all the other invasive species.

I’m going to race them lads over at Roughfisher.com and lay claim to this turf – figuring a couple dozen gaudy variations of traditional patterns, invent a couple insect families that don’t exist, and we’ll have him hitting the text books instead of signing the monstrous book deals, hugging debutantes for the Phoenix society column, or claiming the deluge of Chub rods that’ll sprout from them “suddenly-Brown” upscale vendors.

There’s two “L’s” in sellout, lads – now which of you can spare a breath mint?

Honest, Lucy will hold the football this time, Charlie Brown

I’ve never understood why anglers (as a group) scored so poorly in the math department. Sure, we got a double helping of optimism, but that was so’s we’d stand out in the rain all day…

Jesus and the Apostles were fishermen, but they had the same problems with figures and addition… It might be why JC was so upset with the  money lenders, one of them had the audacity to ask, ” if a barque loaded with Menhaden left Antioch on the morrow, and at the same time a skiff full of Olive oil left Delphi, how much would I …”

Recent events suggests the Roman approach of skewering would have been a better tactic, but like most anglers – Jesu Christo practiced “catch and release.”

I’m not complaining about the raw estimation practiced by our profession, both rounding up and significant digits are all schools of Mathematics with many weighty tomes to back their usage.

The average age of fly fishermen is 51, that’s the number used by Madison Avenue and explains why old scotch, young broads, and things that make a large arse comfortable are featured prominently in our advertising. It’s why angling periodicals feature foreign destinations, and rods are so expensive, because you’re supposed to be older and wiser and have a couple pesos to rub together.

All that by the wayside, what is it about statistics and averaging that gives you fellows so much trouble?

The condensed version, “average” is the important concept to grasp. Simply put, for each one of these:

 

There’s one of these:

bikini What we can agree on is that both specimens are in extremely short supply.

Ignore the candy thrown at you by the “Yellow Journalists” at TroutUnderground, he fishes cane – synonymous for a slow learner.

“Slab of the Week”, “Arse of the Week” or “Breastmeat of the Month” is all smoke and vapor, and the “eye candy” that teases you into thinking monstrous hatches are followed by Lust in the Dust, are pure myth…

… propagated by middle aged fat guys that passed English (barely) and failed math too.

Average age 51, suggests there’s plenty of ladies interested in the sport – they may not have the long legs or bustline to suit your particular kink, but plenty own great tackle, can cast like hell, and own boats.

If Grandma had 60 acres of river frontage, I’d consider raising my standards to match.