As Much as I Loved the Preceding Video, My Inner Hippy was Having Fits, So…
Posted in at least hippies get laid, A Retort on March 10th, 2010 by banknote
This is seriously the best video I’ve ever seen.
Posted in BWTF Seal Of Approval, Laser Awesomnality on March 8th, 2010 by bacon_to_fryShot 20 blocks away from my house in Portland’s Mt. Taber Park. Epic badassness.
Relelase the Hunds!
Posted in i am not fucking kidding, not even remotely related to fly fishing, Holy Crap!, Nihilists, Black Sabbath!, art lessons, fun gals, Dirty Hippies, You Won't Find This Shit On The Fly Fishing Rabbi, Absolute Horseshit, All that is way fucking wrong, Tunes, Lazy Ass YouTube Posting on March 5th, 2010 by theeEd Ward answers the question “Why?”
Posted in don't you ever wash that thing?, BWTF Seal Of Approval, Laser Awesomnality on March 4th, 2010 by bacon_to_fryAlways nice to hear where your head’s at, fella. Hope to see you soon. Actually, please stay up there in Washington until at least May. Please.
And while you’re at it, get you some mojo.
If “Juggs” and “Fly Tyer” ever merged…
Posted in stuff fly fishermen love, Flotsam, clearing out the memory card, Why do we make this so complicated?, Flies that belong in a petting zoo, joke, Fly Candy, Ridiculously Brilliant, adolescent innuendo, You Won't Find This Shit On The Fly Fishing Rabbi, gotta be a place for this, In Depth Beaver Analysis, Utterly Ridiculous, Of Marginal Importance, Smartassery on March 4th, 2010 by Smithhammer
Just cuz you’re in a drifter doesn’t mean you can’t do a little motorboatin.’ Jamie Briscoe unveils a new creation on the Madison.
Fisha, please.
Posted in fuck you you fucking fucks, Think-global-fish-local, uppity mountain hippy extravaganza, Us vs. Them, All that is way fucking wrong on March 3rd, 2010 by G_Smolt(To the tune of “Gin n Juice’, and with apologies to Snoop D-O-double G)
…So much drama in the LBC,
It’s kinda hard bein’ Gee ess em ow el tee
But I some how, some way
Keep fightin’ the mine each and every single day.
Can I show a little movie, for the G’s
And give a little talk as I breeze through…
On the road again, currently in Long Beach CA at the hugeness that is the Fred Hall Tackle Show,
raising awareness for what we all stand to lose if the Proposed Pebble Mine is allowed to be
developed. Thanks to the efforts of TUCA chair Drew Irby, the Long Beach Casting Club has
granted us the use of their fine clubhouse for a showing of Red Gold on Saturday, March 6th,
at 7pm. If you haven’t seen this movie and you live in the area, now is your chance to come
out and see what all the fuss is about. Red Gold is a documentary in the best sense of the word,
as it allows folks a chance to see the importance of Bristol Bay salmon from several different
angles as well as allowing the proponents of Pebble to speak their piece. All in all, a good use
of an hour out of your life, especially to see Peter Andrew tell folks in no uncertain terms that
there will be “no net loss here”, or to listen to the unrepentant smugness of Northern Dynasty’s
Bruce Jenkins.
I’m gonna bet that the club wouldn’t mind if you bring a beer or two, and I can probably rustle up
a bag of chips and some salsa…
Come on out, Fisha.
This is What a 20lb Steelhead Looks Like When Your Friend is too Slow on the Shutter
Posted in completely sober bone-headedness, i am not fucking kidding, yet another excuse fer drinkin', beatdown, bacon! on March 1st, 2010 by banknote
Sorry bacon. Next time I’ll just put it on video mode.
Your Custom Drifter: Mayhem in Snowtown!
Posted in Your Custom Drifter, snowed in, yet another excuse fer drinkin', Revelry on February 28th, 2010 by Wook
Sure, you buy or whack wild salmon for home use, but what about fish at your local sushi bar?
Posted in All that is way fucking wrong on February 26th, 2010 by bacon_to_fryIn the event the Pebble Mine horshenanigans weren’t enough to make a super intelligent, worldly wise fisherman like you an absolute advocate for eating wild salmon instead of dye-added, farmed frankenfishcancer, here’s yet another compelling reason to demand wild salmon both at home and from that swanky-ass sushi joint you gotta take your lady to before she’ll give up the luscious poonany.
If it doesn’t say wild salmon on the menu, it’s not and this is the shit folks support when they order farmed salmon:
Nootka Lice Problems from Twyla Roscovich on Vimeo.
Once again, thanks to Saint Alexandra Morton. Someday you’re gonna be a known as a national Canadian treasure for telling these truths.
Sanctuary!
Posted in Aboogadaboogada, yet another excuse fer drinkin', fuck you you fucking fucks, Biscuit Appreciation, snowed in, time is subjective, soul, cheap coyote tricks, Why do we make this so complicated?, Fish Local, Fodder, Foes, Gone fishin', Us vs. Them, Corporate Fly Fishing Still Sucks, turning back the clock to 1900, uppity mountain hippy extravaganza, Good Fishing Is Where You're At, Buster's Mustard on February 25th, 2010 by WookA long cold hinterland winter here in Freestonia doesn’t mean that the fishing stops entirely, but it does slow down, and that means increased exposure to the noisemakers. You know, the ones that force-feed us the narrative of our lives, that thin clammy broth of postures and judgements and cheap shiny plastic crap that we can’t live without. The noise comes from the tubes, the mailbox and the halls of power in 30-second sound bytes and bumper sticker platitudes, telling us what’s important, what should be dismissed with scorn, conveying our targets for rage and humor. Even the goddam Olympic Games, something that’s supposed to celebrate the hard work of dedicated amateurs, shows up shrinkwrapped in disposable computer-animated bubble packaging that’s obviously been designed and focus-grouped years in advance, complete with instant blowdried celebrity hero toys ready for tomorrow’s water cooler worship. Collect ‘em all, $14.99.
(Haha see, Shaun stowed away on Tuesday’s delivery and stocked all this sk8punk stuff in the dead of night, because he’s a subversive nutty scamp®. What can we do? On sale now.)
The noise is the anthem of the Transnational Lizard People, who purely through the power of cash have erased the importance of place, allegiance to country, recognition of borders, and necessity of breathing, eating, drinking and being of this place where we plant our feet. They recognize no law, no neighbor, no change of season or migration. They experience no hunger or sickness or fear. No disaster matters, except as an opportunity to pad those numbers. Their decisions and actions bear no consequence, aside from possibly being hauled before a Congress of their own creatures for an afternoon show trial, let’s get it over with so we can all go get drinks. With any luck they’ll soon have cash-powered spacecraft so they can all lift off and blast each other with beams of numbers that used to represent something of worth, and be free of the bothersome bounds of the human experience. Man, we’re all such a nuisance.
But here’s the thing: we’re not all where we’re supposed to be, fretting over today’s manufactured outrage on one side of an aisle or another, shaking our heads about who’s fucking whom and oh how could he do such a thing? Sometimes we very deliberately dash out of the pasture and do things that the handlers never counted on. See, there are no blue lines on their demographic maps. They can’t conceive of a shade of green in winter-dormant cedar and water that’s deeper than the one in their veins. Eventually we’ll probably be rounded up and put down for the greater good of the herd, but we likely won’t hear them coming. 