Category Archives: humor

It took the fly, then fought me to a standstill, like a Bulldog in a flushed toilet

sixpack_tilapia I feel obligated to alert the Scientific community to their shortsightedness, what with the medical doctors urging us to ignore burgers and eat more fish, and fish farmers unable to solve the “flaccid flesh” dilemma, whereby a farmed fish filet is soft, pale, and unattractive.

… and in this election year, with all the “Green Bux” being flung at Greener Jobs, all manner of fitness regimens are being developed, everything from swimming robots to zombie-drugs to make fish school more readily, and all simply to rectify their sodden musculature.

Which leads me to ponder what gets us off the couch and swimming in circles, which I’m pretty certain is mealtime and the drive thru …

We ignore the commandments of our doctors and caregivers, ignore common sense and even good taste, forsaking green salads and fruit cups for Mondo-Fries slathered in Chili, or the inert shake whose straw is perched jauntily as decor, given the compression needed to pull the inert mass through its plastic aperture could pull a tugboat through a keyhole …

And despite our knowing of the leaden meal that awaits us, we leap off the couch with great alacrity, swim upstream navigating traffic, fish ladders, and unruly neighbors, intent on spawning at the mechanical clown with the scratchy teeny-bopper voice.

“It is not completely clear which are the factors that would ‘fool’ live fishes and make them behave in a determined way,” he noted.

… but it’s pretty clear saturated fat might have a big role.

Now that we’ve postulated what might instill the herd mentality in fish, and they’re all swimming in an orderly mass, shouldn’t our hatchery scientists watch for those fish that break ranks, or speed ahead of the pack – and harvest what few defiant genes remain?

We’ve always felt that hatchery fish were inferior to their wild brethren, and now that we’ll be growing legions of lean, hard, Salmon and Tilapia, shouldn’t we select all the rebellious fish as replacements for the wild strain?

… or are you content fighting fish in ever-shortening circles?

“Send picture of boat” don’t qualify

As this is another “travel week” you’ll have to find other sources for your noon chuckle. As I hear so few true fishing jokes I felt obligated to share.

A woman goes into Cabela’s to buy a rod and reel for her grandson’s birthday.  She doesn’t know which one to get, so she just grabs one and goes over to the counter.

The clerk was standing behind the counter wearing dark shades.  She says to him, “Excuse me, sir.  Can you tell me anything about this rod and reel?” 

He says, “Ma’am, I’m completely blind; but if you’ll drop it on the counter, I can tell you everything from the sound it makes.”

She doesn’t believe him but drops it on the counter anyway……He says, “That’s a six-foot Shakespeare graphite rod with a Zebco 404 reel and 10-LB. Test line. It’s a good all-around combination, and it’s on sale this week for only $20.00.”

She says, “It’s amazing that you can tell all that just by the sound of it dropping on the counter. I’ll take it!”

As she opens her purse, her credit card drops on the floor. “Oh, that sounds like a Master Card,” he says. She bends down to pick it up and accidentally farts.

At first she is really embarrassed, but then realizes……there is no way the blind clerk could tell it was her who tooted.  Being blind, he wouldn’t know that she was the only person around?

The man rings up the sale and says, “That’ll be $34.50 please.”

The woman is totally confused by this and asks, “Didn’t you tell me the rod and reel were on sale for $20.00? How did you get $34.50?”

He replies, “Yes, ma’am. The rod and reel is $20.00, but the Duck Call is $11.00, and the Catfish Bait is $3.50.” She paid it and left without saying a word.

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Despite our best efforts and countless casting clinics, many children slipped through the cracks

GQ magazine was kind enough to share a tidbit with me on America’s Best Fishing, which confirmed our worst fears on the burgeoning Metrosexual Menace…

Detroit, San Diego, and Charleston, South Carolina. No mention of the piney woods, clean water, or any activity liable to soil a silk shirt. “The Real Outdoors” is for vacationing family guys, or worse, hideous and boring father-son outings.

But there is a better way to fish. You don’t have to buy waders or waste a long weekend in neck-beard country. We’ve found places where you can spend a day kicking back on the water, rod in hand, trolling for redfish—or, hell, battling a shark— then hit the city for a mind-blowing dinner and a stiff drink.

– via GQ.com

There’s considerable silver lining knowing the fashion conscious won’t be crowding us for space on the creek. While we’ve had numerous dinners that “blew”… the only “mind blowing” meal in recent memory was finding a room temperature sliver of beef jerky from last season, which I gulped gratefully with a palm full of branch water.

That image is a load of shit. There is no dock. The lake is a mosquito-infested bog twenty-three miles outside Moosejaw. And our grandpappy was a mean drunk who smelled like a Burlington Coat Factory.

I love it when they get all masculine and “edgy” … but they wilt soon enough when they find there’s no place to plug in a blow dryer.

And fly fishermen get the “evil torture” rap

I’d call it something like, “noble foe mistreated horribly, first by Monsanto, then by sushi-loving Hipster.”

Let’s eat Glow-Inna-Dark genetically-engineered, research fish despite their being finely honed scientific thoroughbreds, engineered for pollution detection …

… and that Glow Inna Dark thing, shouldn’t matter on the flavor dont’cha think?

 

Madam, what you were attempting to convey was, “Jesus Bob, this fish tastes like licking the inside of an aquarium accented deftly by raw sewage (and if the camera wasn’t rolling, I’d spit this crap all over you ..), and the cucumber does nothing other than make me want to hurl.

… I guess the wasabi was kind of strong … for dummies especially …

For a few Gift Cards more …

Now that Maryland has reinstituted last season’s Snakehead bounty, gifting anglers a $200 Gift certificate from Bass Pro Shops for each kill, most of the state is likely mulling dumping their day job and becoming a Bounty Killer in the image of Clint Eastwood ..

As always, your friends and family won’t understand, and they’ll huddle tearfully on the lawn as you back your boat out of the garage. They missed the earlier fireworks where you hurled your paper hat into your ex-boss’s face, an underemployed-desperation job you’d landed when your first career imploded due to the housing crisis, and while fishing is undoubtedly more honorable than manning a drive thru window, after you earn every fly rod, every reel, and every accessory possible for your too-stuffed vest, can Bass Pro really put food on your table?

While their catalog boasts 600 items containing the word “food”, most appear to be things you sprinkle or spray so you can lure Bambi into rock throwing range, and the rest are best served as ingredients for a still, in the vain hope fermentation might improve its flavor.

… although their Ass Kicking Jelly Beans might serve as stellar breakfast food …

Which has always been the knock on voucher bounty, once you’ve stuffed your garage full of the complimentary American cheese, your interest wanes for your real mission, which is killing invasives.

… that and your landlord is less than thrilled when you offer two thousand yards of Dyneema and four gross of motor-oil flavored twisty grubs for another month’s rent.

Unlike the awesome cash bounty placed on my beloved Pikeminnow, which has made the papers each year – given the $4 – $8 bounty paid for each corpse larger than nine inches. At last count over 3 million fish had been removed from the Greater Columbia drainage.

Just another thick envelope between gentlemen

Science for Hire Most of my giggles have been the irrational kind but it’s nice to see that the “we’ll tune Science for pay” phenomenon isn’t localized to the US or an election year …

While us Californian’s dicker over whether Striped Bass are the root of all evil, and while federal scientists determine whether the Delta should be sucked or flushed southward, our esteemed pals across the pond are enduring their fair share of neo-science for hire.

To wit, a scientist aligned with the farmed fishing industry claims us anglers have simply killed too many wild salmon, in the process removing too much genetic diversity from the population, and therefore a kind of “genetic drift” has lead to an indolent population of fish that prefer Twinkies and energy drinks. *

“We, at Callander McDowell, think that…the loss of genetic material rather than being the result of one big accident has been the repeated loss of genetic material from the rivers over the last 150 years and possibly even longer. This loss is due to the rise in recreational angling for salmon, whereby anglers take home their catch. Each fish kept and consumed is one more part of the genetic jigsaw that has gone missing. Even in recent years, the loss to the gene pool continues despite attempts to stop it through the introduction of Catch and Release.”

-via fishnewseu.com

The core of the issue being how escaped farmed salmon can interbreed with native stocks and weaken the population with their test tube genetics. As in the US and Canada, numerous ills have been blamed on escaped fish and their ability to interbreed, despite the industries efforts to contain their slippery crop.

Recent information on hatchery fish and their effect on wild populations would suggest that the progeny of fish that thrive in a concrete canal where pellets of food are shoveled in their direction, might not survive very well in the wild.

Hatchery fish themselves could be having an impact, too: recent studies have found genetic and behavioral differences in hatchery-born and wild salmonids. Hybrid offspring of hatchery and wild fish may have a lower chance of surviving and reproducing than purely wild offspring do.

– via the NY Times

Most anglers would acknowledge our collective sporting carnage. We’ve enjoyed driving great distances to scenic venues so we can kill many millions of fish. The fishing industry has taken it a bit further with large nets and electronics, and what they didn’t get has been doomed by the rest of us and toxic runoff from industry, cities, and attachment to fossil fuels.

I’d think moderates and liberals would have as much trepidation about believing Science as conservatives, given how much of it that makes the papers has been bought and paid for …

* I get to add some knee jerk half assed flavor of science too …

Liberal Menace responsible for most fishing ills and the Economy

liberal_moron … and I do so in good humor, despite blood rushing to my cheek, as I’ve been called “liberal” about as often as the Fair Sex has called me, “fat”, “disgusting”, or “slovenly.”

I’ve always associated the “Liberal” tag as nothing more than describing someone that lives on the coast, or resides in a “blue” state – which pretty much amounts to the same thing …

An analysis of 36 years’ worth of polling data indicates that confidence in science as an institution has steadily declined among Americans who consider themselves conservatives, while confidence levels have been at steadier levels for other ideological groups.

-via MSNBC’s Cosmic Log

But after all the research is complete and opinion weighed, can we blame those untidy DNA fragments that emasculate our steelhead and salmon on us, the liberal menace?

Meaning, us liberals, and our unswerving devotion to science, are the root cause of fish hatcheries and therefore responsible for the “put and take” philosophy espoused by State and Federal wildlife agencies?

Say it ain’t so, Babe!

So what does this mean for the role of science in setting national policy? "In a political climate in which all sides do not share a basic trust in science, scientific evidence no longer is viewed as a politically neutral factor in judging whether a public policy is good or bad,"

Which explains why so much of the Science of late has been either Good or Bad, with little in between. Nor does it bode well for future efforts to set aside unspoiled pieces of Pristine, given those listening are ignoring a lot of the evidence and testimony, assuming it’s no longer impartial.

Hard times coming for conservation organizations, whose message will resonate with us coastal types, and simply be “more liberal BS” for the warm states.

Brook Trout victimized by Heat and Performance anxiety

With all the hormones in the water column you’d think us old guys and our yen for little blue pills would be able to pee a little stability into native Brook Trout populations, at least enough to overcome the ill effects of global warming …

New research suggests an increase of as little as a single degree in median summertime temperatures can delay Brook Trout spawning by as much as a week – worse is there’s less fish with the urge …

"These trout can’t build gonads in the summer," Kraft said. "They’re burning more energy to survive, so they don’t have energy to produce eggs. The warmer it gets, the fewer fish are spawning; some just give up."

Makes you wonder whether those female hormones that are rumored to be in the drinking water and the root cause of gender-bending fish populations, aren’t part of some sinister Amazonian world domination gambit, where they’re sprinkling extra into the water supply just so’s we’ll sit still when they talk window treatments.

Guys never pay attention to warnings on labels, and would gladly swallow handfuls of turgidity simply to brag about what deeds were accomplished during the all-important “… if this condition persists for more than four hours …” medical miracle session.

Now that we’re killing off all those planted cockroaches, the Rainbow Trout, in favor of native Brookies, it’s nice to know we’re haven’t lost our sense of timing nor humor, knowing we’re hoping for a sustainable trout population by adding more eunuchs.

There’s hope if they’re finally ditching light beer

Can it be that the root cause of declining outdoors participation isn’t Nintendo, nor the warm confines of the couch, rather it’s a lack of appreciation for straight liquor?

beer_Fishing

Campfires and the out-of-doors have always been associated with a return to the simple, unsophisticated life of our adventurer-hunter-gatherer ancestors, and the measure of what we can do without is stressed as the new masculinity.

… or at least that was my Poppa’s take on his Poppa’s lectures …

It didn’t matter if it was battery-operated, solar-powered, or threw off enough BTU’s to render tents and bags unnecessary, unless it was hand-cranked and raised blisters, you didn’t get to bring it.

What we didn’t take into account was how the younger crowd would be so much smarter than us. Our generation watched Gus Grissom punch out early, a president take the rap for covert misdeeds, and discovered that John Wayne wore four inch lifts, and we unknowingly communicated our mistrust of authority to our kids …

… who question everything taught them by Poppa, including dumping both beer and the out-of-doors in preference for faux-sophistication and exotic cocktails.

Baby boomers prefer wine, while millennials like exotic cocktails. Compared with those beverages, light beer is about as exciting as a glass of milk.

– via MSN.com

It’s not rocket science to understand that juggling Grenadine while filching a fistful of capers out of a darkened container at the campfire, could wind up as a finger full of Pautske’s dipped in the last of the good liquor, and “shaken not stirred” won’t prevent your pals from spitting up all over their sleeping gear …

Start by giving your child an appreciation for straight liquor, then work your way up to mosquito bites, skinned knees, and sandwiches with sand in them …

A lot more of us would have made Harvard, that’s for sure

Spicoli It was San Francisco in the mid-Seventies … the Vietnam War had ended two years earlier, so there was plenty of Peace, the Castro District was filling rapidly, so there was oodles of Love, and the Haight-Ashbury had degenerated from counter-cultural nexus to outright Heroin addiction, so there was plenty of Dope …

… and the best class in High School … the only class we dared not cut was Foods.

That’s where those in search of a boost to their Grade Point Average went – after being bitch-slapped by Math, Science, or English.

Foods … first you went out back to spark a Fatty with your pals, then you hustled yourself to Foods, where you’d gorge on half baked chocolate cupcakes, or Oatmeal cookies made with Cornmeal, or something sweet or fattening that had been stepped on, undercooked, or someone had spit in when you weren’t looking …

With my youth as backdrop, why is it only now that I can move to South Carolina, letter in fishing and score a four year scholarship, plus dangle the Homecoming Queen on my arm – instead of her fawning over that troglodyte linebacker with his single eyebrow ?

“If it was recognized as a varsity sport, then your benefits would be you can letter in it, you can get scholarships,” said Camden Fishing Club member Catie Charles, a freshman. “But right now you don’t. You just go out there for fun and nobody really notices.”

– via Fox News.com

If I could’ve fished my way through 2nd period, Foods class would have been a distant memory, and we might’ve damaged less brain cells that were a Food’s prerequisite (not to mention the occasional brush with ptomaine poisoning).

“I heard that throwing 150 casts is equivalent to throwing 100 pitches in a game,” said Fishing Club member Carson Morgan. And, according to their coach, serious anglers often make 500 casts in a day.

… and based on the above whopper, it’s obvious those kids are learning the all important ethics lessons of fishing, truth before all else.

As bass boats and terminal tackle would be in obvious short supply, we could ensure all the loafers, dopers, and riff-raff avoided class by requiring participants to strip and don athletic supporters.

(Wild rolling of eyes … Strip and expose my video game sculpted flesh to public scrutiny, OhMyGawd, anything but that …)