Dear President-Elect Obama,
You prolly knew this was coming and stuff, but we at the Buster can’t help but put it out there proper since no one else has. Besides, we know you’ve been busy stomping fools and doling out extra-strength cans of robot beatdown.
If we recall right, you said, “One way or another, after this presidential process is over, whether–because I lose or because I win–and I’ve got a little vacation time coming, I’m going to learn how to fly fish.” and we sorta dug your whole heavy vibe there. It’s what we woulda done if we were in your shoes, but we’d have probably done it sooner and forgot about that long, yadda, yadda presidential race thing. Bad timing, it being fall and what not. Salmons, steelhead, muskies, smallies and trout—things go off in fall. You’ll learn.
That said, let’s do us some fishing. Be pretty cool to hang out with some regular folks instead of all those D.C. humps. A couple of us have boats that don’t smell all-too-bad, trucks that sometimes run and Smiff’s a professional fishguy that might even be able to hook you up with some sweet free pants or something. Thee and WT are 169% dialed on the Washington scene and Wally knows how to keep Thee’s surly quelled provided he hasn’t gotten into the brown liquor, Wook’s got the Northeast locked and people fear him so there’d be no need for the Men in Black. Creek’s even down in the Dirty, Dirty if you can’t get North.
You like hiking right? Salty’s always cool for an anklebone cast and blast and the Banknote and I’d be happy to put you on a swung-fly steelhead, but then you’d prolly quit your day job and buy a truck with a canopy and end up with capilene bonded to your legs or something from just bumming out all winter and such. Be pretty cool, tho. The hell with Joe the Plumber when you can get Bacon the Steelheader, right? You like Dinty Moore? Sweet, I’ll get two cans. Genuine unity, fella.
Hell, B, I’ll even take you salmon fishing. I know, it’s not all fly fishing, but it’s real badass and a good reminder of how real, regular folks still put real, unprocessed food on their family’s table. If we find rollers, maybe I’ll show you how to huck shooting heads. No promises there. You really should know how to tie your own bait loops and thread a sandshrimp and eggs beforehand, tho. See, I gotta row the plugs while you backbounce. No free rides and normally I’d say ass, grass or gas but we’ll let all those slide because you’re Mr. Obama not Mr. Clinton. We don’t have to talk like politicos or anything either, except I do wanna get some stuff straight about what’s-her-name’s support for the Pebble Mine because it’s gonna really put a lot of my friends out of work and let foreign interests irreparably wreck a national jewel like Bristol Bay. And the Columbia River gillnetters, the Snake River dams and all that private industry logging that steals both from our public forests and our Northwest identity, which oughta be cool since you said you were committed to restoring the Northwest salmon in that Portland speech last fall. Umm, what else? Eggs go to the boat and don’t mind the dog. She’s a female and all, but sometimes she’ll lay her hump on into your leg like a male would. I don’t know why. She’s cool tho. Brings the mojo. You’ll see.
Last thing: We’ll prolly have you out well after dark, so you might wanna set it up proper with Michelle and the kids so it’s not our last time on the water. Done right, you’ll smell like fish so as to prove we didn’t just go to some peeler club instead of fishing. Gotta keep the ladies happy. Always.
Thanks, a sincere congratulations on that thing last Tuesday night and we’re looking forward to fishing with you, good sir. We bid you dogspeed,
The Buster Wants to Fish Crew
PS: I like Rainier. Talls. In a brown paper bag. Sorta assuming you’ve got the hook-up, so maybe you could score some of those old-schooly Rainer pounders in the brown glass bottles too? KThnxbye.
