Dispatches from the belly of the beast

Well, after all the rending of garments and gnashing of teeth I have
indulged in over the years regarding over-commercialization and the
insidious transformation of the sport into an "industry," I find myself
--for reasons we won't go into here--a part-time (and probably
temporary) fly-shop dude.

Who'd a thunk it?

If I can find a way to do it without annoying the owners of other local
shops I've patronized over the years, I will post some thoughts from
time to time.

Two presented themselves almost immediately:

- What with low pay and the phenomenal discounts offered by
manufacturers, employment is likely to be gainful more in a material
than a monetary way. The "savings" on just those few things I've
already got my eye on are quite likely to impoverish me....

- Please, please, PLEASE, look into, oh, I dunno, Shakespeare or Ambrose
Bierce or Oscar Wilde or Mencken or de Rochefoucauld before your next
trip to the fly shop. I had been told once you've heard several dozen
fly shop conversations you've heard heard them all. "Several" is an
lovely exaggeration. Honestly, the next person who tells me it's
"called fishing, not catching, har, har, har" is either gonna--depending
on my mood--get punched in the nose or see a grown man cry......

--
John Russell aka JR