On Fri, 06 Aug 2004 15:21:10 -0600, rw
wrote:

Peter Charles wrote:
A fishing life offers all sorts of opportunities for mini-epiphanies
and I've recently tripped over one that's worth mentioning.

When I'm out camping or rafting in a remote spot, my custom in the
evening is to take a rod, a reel, a line, and one fly, or sometimes I'll
cheat a bit with a small flybox in my shirt pocket. No tippet, no
hemostats, no net, no vest, no water bottle, no bug repellent, no
floatant, no waders, no nothing but what I absolutely need. It tends to
focus my concentration on the task at hand.

You ****in' pussy! It's MY custom to go stark nekkid, with no gear
whatsoever. I use my large, always-rock-hard dick as a flyrod, and
weave line out of my manly patch of chesthair and leader from my
flowing, sun-kissed yet silk-like mane of hair. I don't need flies
because the fish are so grateful to get a fin on what others would pay a
fortune to merely touch that they bite and hold on to my silken leader.
Of course, being the gallant and magnanimous great American sportsman
that I am, I kiss them and release them with a hearty, "Via con Dios, my
piscine friend!" I have no need to focus my concentration and only need
to pay the merest intention because my incredible brain can concentrate
with laserlike focus on 1423 tasks at once. In fact, last time out, I
built 3 space shuttles with my toes, solved for Kreh times Pi to the nth
power cubed, found 2 blackholes with my eyes alone, and proved that my
good friend Elvis was still alive...

Brian K.