Category Archives: humor

Daytripper started it, but it’s up to you to finish it

Close but needs refinement I got another half dozen obligatory junk mails delivered this week hawking angling publications and conservation organizations. That isn’t so bad, but they all signed off using the “dead cow” angling salutation, “Tight Lines.”

Daytripper expressed his suffering a month ago with his magical post on trite overused angling phrases, but it appears as if it was in vain, everything I get still ends with the same pabulum.

I’ll never be confused with Twain or Hemingway, and most of my best work is scrawled in public washrooms, but I think “Tight Lines” is short of the mark.

My line is tight when snagged, my “lines” are tight after a big Italian dinner, a hooked fish is a tight line, but it’s a “diet tight line”, not as good as landing it.

I’d assumed the author was wishing me something good, but there’s enough leeway to wonder.

“Weight gain and lost flies” may be the original intent, and we’ve been insulting each other ever since. I’m thinking we can do better, certainly we can be more precise.

“Sharing the warmth of forcibly puncturing the cartilaginous orifice of  innocents” is a tad dry, and a two to three word limit is appropriate.

The salutation that’ll haunt your magazine renewal notice for decades, will immortalize an angler better than a dozen fly patterns that share his name, and I’m at a loss… It’s like the “Sword in the Stone” – I gave her a yank and she didn’t budge..

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Feng Shui – my fly tying bench could use a dab of that

Don’t anger your Feng Shui consultantUs Californians bear a hideous burden, we’re supposed to export American culture to the rest of the world via Hollywood and politicians, and have additional responsibility to export some lifestyle change that ensures we’re the laughingstock of the rest of the country.

McDonald’s wants a taste of that action, opening a “Feng Shui’d” grease mart that assumes the elemental touch will have you admiring their decor, rather than counting all them silly grams of lard you’re ingesting. I figure if Mickey Dee’s wants in the fad may have run its course.

Then again, I may be wrong.

The makeover is part of the attempt by McDonald’s Corp. in recent years to remodel hundreds of its restaurants to attract more patrons with unique decor and amenities that might entice them stay awhile.

It also fits into McDonald’s larger corporate practice of catering to local tastes, such as a fondue-style burger in France or a pita-wrapped “McArabia” sandwich in the Middle East.

The “McArabia” might be the reason Osama Bin Laden torched the World Trade Center, it was pure self defense…

The basic principles of feng shui include placing strategic representations of five natural elements – earth, water, fire, metal and wood – around the room to increase the flow of chi, or energy.

I’m thinking my fly tying bench could use some Feng Shui, but incorporating all those elements could be problematic. Water is easiest, so I’ll require a keg refrigerator – I can run some carburetor hose up the armature of my lamp for “hands free” usage, and I don’t have to worry about tipping over glasses, or having an odd number of empty cans, which would disrupt “chi”.

Houseplants are prized in feng shui circles as a means of bringing desirable chi, or energy, into the home. They’re also a natural air purifier, and a simple way to brighten up the dark, short days of winter.

So I buy some Gro-Lights and revisit my college days, growing herbs rather than flowers or plasticine jungle foliage. Useful, likely to increase the creativity of my tying, but bouts of cotton mouth and cravings for vanilla ice cream topped with Mango Chutney will result in weight gain.

Another perfectly simple, but crucial, feng shui dictum. If something in your home is broken or in disrepair – even if it’s something that you rarely use, or keep in storage – fix it or get rid of it. The idea: malfunctioning or damaged objects engender pessimism and frustration.

I followed the directions to the letter, now I walk around dazed and haven’t tied anything other than shoe laces in months, it’s me that’s broken … so much for trendy..

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Add Laurel and Hardy and a good doping scandal

Dry them eyes with that fat check 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.

Billfish Tournament 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 bass-tournament.jpgfellow, 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.

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I’ve thought of fly fishing as many things, addiction was right up there, rehab wasn’t

Check for a file in the fighting butt None of the past offenses are mentioned so I can’t determine whether this fits the traditional pattern of self destructive behavior.

“I used to make cane and graphite fishing rods, and tie flies as a hobby when I was on the street,” said Jeremy Loyd, an Arrowhead prison inmate. “I approached Dave Block (a Correctional Industries manager) with an idea for making it a business and an educational program.”

On the surface it sounds like it satisfies the incarceration / rehabilitation model, but knowing our passion for fishing is he merely trading one downward spiral for another?

Yes, I’m joking – but the question remains.

There’s no telling what I’m capable of if a flotilla of inebriated water skiers dampen my fishing, or some insensitive brute on a mountain bike impales himself on my flyrod. If the crime scene evidence goes against me – would my wrapping your graphite rod be punishment, and for whom?

I’ll leave my faith in professionals, they do this stuff full time; but were it me, once back on the street, I’d be hawking dry flies to school kids in no time.

At least I started off feeling patriotic, now I’ll just scratch my head and wonder

Max that sucker for God and Country Like it or no it’s an election year and the current regime feels obligated to safeguard the economy until December, so’s they can blame whatever party takes power shortly thereafter.

It’s a time-honored tradition, and with $600 bucks hurtling your way – coupled with your patriotic duty to blow it in an orgy of consumption, we ask – which flyrod are you gonna buy?

Yes, I’m talking to you, no need to glance around panic stricken..

The commandments are simple; you’re not allowed to bank it, you can’t pay off your mortgage with it, and you’re Al-Qaeda if you contemplate anything like paying down your credit card balance. It’s $600 and anything short of a consumer frenzy is simply unacceptable.

It’s 270 flies (with tax) which should represent a full season for most fishermen, except me, as the Little Stinking is a preserve for Charles Schultz’s “deadly kiting eating trees” and their offspring, the “deadly fly eating low hanging scrub” – even then, 270 flies is most of a weekend.

It’s one reel and extra spool, so long as you covet one of the large arbor “economy stimulating hand tooled aircraft grade something-or-other” – you’ll still have to pop for the fish graphic abstract, but we’ll call you a “super patriot” and can quail hunt with Dick Cheney if you opt for the any of the custom finishes.

It’s most of a flyrod actually, you may be able to get a whole one if you order it off the Internet, but that would raise the “commie” issue as you avoided sales tax entirely. You’d still get to meet Dick, but your cell phone calls will be taped for posterity.

What’s plain to me is that none of us will qualify, because even knowing about this gear means you make far too much money already.

… and that’s an ugly thought – that last rod purchase made us miss the mortgage payment, and we’re the cause of the entire debacle?

Say it ain’t so…

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I did a triple header in my own backyard, a Brown, a Golden, and a Calico

Slow the retrieve just a bit, it's like Bonefishing only with screaming Old Ladies I’m without a viable fishery, and that’s worthy of mourning. Salmon will be closed soon due to the demise of the Chinook run, likely prompting Fish and Game to close everything as most folks can’t distinguish between salmon species…

I haven’t heard the outcome of today’s meeting to close the steelhead fishery for 60 days, and the Little Stinking  is running about 15 times it’s normal size.

I tried the Supermarket – leaving the cart some distance back from the fish section, tossing a pebble in the freezer to see if anything spooked, but the only motion I saw was from a Tilapia fillet, and those don’t eat flies.

All that’s left is “Katfishing” which bears no resemblance to Catfishing as we know it. You take a steelhead rod equipped with a shooting head, add an 8 inch streamer of Glo-Bug yarn (combed out so it’s big and fluffy) on a 3X tippet and pretend to be practicing on your front lawn.

Typical feeding lane, keep a firm grip on the rodWhen the neighbors stop watching lay a cast in tight to their hedge and strip it back over the grass. Give it a good “wounded” retrieve, but hold onto the rod, that big Tabby that craps on your Petunias is going to want this sucker in the worst way.

Glo-Bug yarn works best, as feline claws will get good purchase on the initial pounce, and you can get a fairly good tussle interspersed with the occasional run.

This is strictly a “Katch and Release” fishery, but there’s no limit to the number of hook ups, most cats will take the fly 40 or 50 times in a single cast. No, you won’t hurt them and they’ll have as much fun as you will, but if Mrs. Flauntleroy is peering at you from her kitchen window, cool it.

If you don’t know the cat personally, uses steel mesh gloves on the release, either that or pliers…

It’s my birdseed, those are my songbirds, cats have to make my reel sing for their supper.

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You can’t have sweaty hands and you need to know which end of the airbrush to point at them

I have legendary airbrush skills 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.

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A conversation on a Bird Watcher’s forum

It was a cow once, honest I don’t make this stuff up I just giggle and pass it on. I yanked the forum dialog to quell your urge for witty rebuttal, it’s an artifact of  “antiseptic plastic packaging”, carnivores too far removed from the sledgehammer smacking the cow to appreciate that all steaks used to “Moo.”

I was doing a search on Google for jackdaws and came across a link to the fly tying/feathers section of troutcatchers.co.uk. I don’t want to post a direct link but it’s easy to find. I was shocked to find that they sell mandarin duck and jay skins, jay and jackdaw wings an many other bird and animal bits. As an occasional fly fisherman I was rather shocked to be confronted by the evidence of the carnage and trade associated with production of the flies. Although I presume it’s all ‘legal’, it’s incredibly distasteful and shocking to be brought up against it in this way.

Response:

You’re a fly fisherman and you didn’t know that the feathers in trout flies came from birds, or the fur from animals?
Mallard and Claret, Snipe and Purple, Gold-ribbed Hare’s Ear,
Teal, Blue and Silver, Pheasant Tail Nymph, Grouse and Purple, Partridge and Orange, Woodcock and Green, I think there may be a clue somewhere in the names of these well-known traditional trout flies.

Original poster:

go fly fishing about once every 5-10 yrs and I don’t think I’ve ever known the names of the flies but thanks for pointing them out. I think all I’m expressing is how easy it is to not think in a joined up way about how we live and what we do. Seeing pictures on that website of dead jays, jackdaw wings etc was a real wake-up call. My daughter has become a vegetarian recently. Whilst I don’t think I’m likely to do that, I’m increasingly trying to avoid battery hens, to buy meat from more humanely reared animals and so on. I also haven’t been fishing at all for several years and am most unlikely to return to it.

Good. I’ll not dissuade a fellow from his convictions, for us it’s one less car in the parking lot, and one less fellow carelessly wading through our fish.

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Think of that next time you toss the Sumbitch up onto the bank

Now I'm in for it Evolutionists have surmised Man is the result of a long chain of genetic events whose ancestors lived in water. Divine Theory has always touted the lack of evidence in the fossil record to support that conclusion. Four years ago a paleontologist unearthed a “fish” that had both neck and “hands“, the missing link in human evolution.

Armed with a public school introduction to Evolution, and setting aside the controversy of Divine versus Darwinism, it’s well known many branches of the Evolutionary Tree cast barren fruit. We’re at the top of the food chain for the moment, but any number of maladies could change that in the blink of an eye. Not surprisingly, the next sentient species may already inhabit our waterways.

While not overly worried that “them as inherits” is going to have a grudge,  we’ll be that “idjit ape thing” they find traces of … how we dominated the planet briefly and went “poof” for unknown reasons. I am intrigued by the notion of “which fish it’ll be” and how come we haven’t placed the entire genus off limits – so they get their chance.

It won’t be anything “Salmo”, as humans have turned over every stone trying to find a super-strain, they lost whatever legacy was possible when we started raising them on handfuls of dry dog food. In fact, you can forget all of the current gamefish species – we like ’em, so what we don’t eat we’ll screw up by tinkering with genetic code, possibly in an attempt to produce bigger ones faster, or other noble purpose.

I’m thinking it’ll be a member of the “bullhead” family, an underwater cockroach capable of surviving any known flavor of Armageddon, thrives on Zebra mussels and Rock Snot, immune to Ebola, and can reproduce in pure ammonia.

Think of that the next time you yank one off your line and toss it up on the bank, all you’re doing is selecting for the air breathers … brilliant move, Monkey-Boy.

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