| T.R | Title | User | Personal
Name | Date | Lines |
|---|
| 267.1 | yeah...but... | AIMHI::TOMAS | Joe | Wed Mar 04 1987 16:14 | 5 |
| ...hey....anyone hear the one about bass that live after cutting
a fillet outta their side....
umpghfff...
|
| 267.2 | I thought I started that note | FROST::REMILLARD | REMILLARD | Wed Mar 04 1987 21:47 | 9 |
| Read note 264....
I hope it's not too boring, but it's true.
Can't be too many "Walleye" fanatics out there!!!!
In Lake Champlain, if you catch a walleye you're pretty
lucky now a days..
Rem
|
| 267.3 | Lost rod? | GENRAL::HUNTER | from SUNNY Colorado, Wayne | Thu Mar 05 1987 15:16 | 19 |
| I will preface this by saying "BELIEVE IT OR NOT" it's true.
Now for the story.
While bottom fishing (worm drowning) in Green Mtn. Reservoir
near Dillon Colo., my fishing partner lost his rod while not paying
attention to what was happening. Well, to say the least, he was
really *BUMMED OUT*. After much cussing, foot stomping, growling,
and etc., We were packing up getting ready to leave. About this
time, a guy about 1/2 mile up the lake shore starts yelling, jumping
up and down, screaming, (you get the picture) and etc. We look
up, and his rod is almost bent double.
Well, everyone up and down the bank runs over to see what kind
of horse this guy has on. After about 20 minutes of fighting the
fish, the guy lands my partners rod. My partner tells him this.
The guy then hands my partner his rod and tells him to land the
fish. Turned out the fish was a big Gray Succer, not a trout.
Oh well, wish there were more honest people out there like this
guy.
|
| 267.4 | The black cloud kid | TPVAX3::DODIER | Dead tomycods don't wear plaid | Fri Mar 06 1987 08:16 | 40 |
| I hate to break this up with true story but.......
By the time I was 16, camping out at Plugs pond in Haverhill
the day before trout season opened was a regular event. Also a regular
event was a group of older kids that use to go around raiding peoples
camp grounds and stealing equipment, knocking over tents, etc.. Since
I knew them, they didn't bother my camp ground. One of my brothers
friends was not so fortunate. He comes over to our tent almost
in tears, so we wound up taking him in, along with his friend's,
his friend's friend's, and so on.
Anyway, the night wears on and I'm starting to get tired and
feeling all the *soda* :-) I drank and decided to turn in. I open
the door to my tent and see wall to wall bodies. I then decided to
take a boat ride. So I hop in my little wooden pram, and row off
shore a bit. The next thing I know, I'm waking up, still in the
boat and I have frost on me. So I row into shore and get a fire
started.
After I get the fire going, about 9 people come out of my 4
man tent to warm up by the fire and fish. This is where the funny
part starts.
My brothers friend grabs his pole and starts to attach a bobber
to the line. Mind you, we're all fishing salmon eggs on the bottom.
It didn't matter because with his first cast, he wrapped his line
around a branch that was 30' almost straight up. In the process
of trying to yank it down, he loses his balance, falls in the water,
and simultaneously snaps his line. So he climbs up on shore, and
rests his rod against a tree. He takes his sneakers off and places
them next to the fire. In about 2 minutes, I look over and his sneakers
are on fire. So I say "Hey, your sneakers are on fire". He runs
over to the fire to put out his sneakers, tripping over his rod.
Guess where his rod landed ? That's right, in the fire.
So now this kid has no pole and no shoes. I had a pair of waders
(old firemen boots) that weighed about five pounds each. I lent
them to him so he wouldn't have to walk home barefoot.
I was watching him walk off in the general direction of home
fully expecting to see a black cloud following him. I've heard people
say that they fish because it's relaxing. I doubt you could convince
this kid of that.
RAYJ
|
| 267.5 | Piranha Blues | PSYCHE::DECAROLIS | | Fri Mar 06 1987 10:21 | 41 |
| This really did happen to me. One pleasant Sunday afternoon, I had
anchored outside of Gloucester harbor in my little 13.5 foot Boston
Whaler.
I was flounder fishing this afternoon, and started the grim task
of putting a seaworm on the hook. I love fishing, but I hate
these damn seaworms, they're the stuff nightmares are made of.
He tried to bite me as I jabbed him with hook, his black pinchers
snapping at air. I set out the line and leaned back, waiting for a bite.
I heard a boat approaching and turned around to take a look.
I didn't see a boat, what a saw was water being churned up
and it was headed fast in my direction. I stood up to take a
closer look, all of a sudden a bluefish jumped into the boat,
jaws snapping, it lunged at me and bit a hole right thru my
Nike sneaker. I grabbed my oar and beat the fish senseless,
two more blues jumped into the boat and started to attack me.
I dove into the drivers seat and started the engine. A blue
simultaneously clamped down on the fuel line, foiling my escape.
I leapt to the back of the boat, oar in hand, one of the blues
came at my throat. I held up the oar to protect myself, the
blue clamped onto the oar, biting it in two.
He landed on the boat floor, with the oar still in his mouth, I
jumped down onto his head, squashing him, hearing bones crunch.
The other blue sprang up and bit me right in the *ss, I grabbed
him by the tail and flung him overboard. Three more blues jumped into
the boat, in a frenzy now at the sight of blood. Its all over
I thought, thats when I remembered I had my trusty Boston Whaler
Killer Whale Whistle tied around the throttle. I reached for it,
fighting off the fish as they sprang at me. I half blew/screamed into
the whistle. The 3 blues shrank back, fear showed in their eyes.
The water slowed calmed down, off in the distance the Killer
Whales came. The blues tried to make a run for it, but the
harbor entrance was surrounded by Killer Whales. Hungry Killer
Whales. Then, I woke up with a sunburn.
Jeanne (who reads too many Stephen King novels)
|
| 267.6 | That rod store sounds farmilier | HPSCAD::BPUISHYS | Bob Puishys | Fri Mar 06 1987 14:05 | 49 |
|
Here is a good one and very true!!
We were fishing at Wachussette Res. on the opening day. It was
a nice warm day but slow fishing. My friend had landed a 15lb laker
and put it on a chain to his long sand spike rod holder. I had
one small laker and a rainbow, also on a chain on the same spike.
We as the day went on the people on the point where my friend wanted
to fish left. So my friend grabs his sand soike and rod and moves
up the beach. Well I am 20 yards from were the fish WERE and notice
the big lakers making big splashes. He had been tring to swimm
away all moring. Well to my disblief I watch his laker's tail go
under. Boy I thought to my self he got in deep that time!! Then
I relize that the sand spike holding the chain was gone.
Ohh SH*T i yelled and ran down the beach. His fish was swimming
along the shore in about three feet of water. I started to yell
to him and Ken who had waders on to come running with the net.
They finaly relized what I was tlaking about and startup the chase.
As the fish past our last rod on the beach he made the plunge over
the sandy shore into the dark deep water.
Now if it was my fish I may have lunged into the water for him but
there was no way I would do that on a 40' day in the spring.
So as we all walked back up the beach ken stops at his rod (the
last one the fish passed) and his line was striping off the reel
at a nice even speed. So He sets the hook. I nice looking bend
took to his rod and the battle began.
Much to our supprise as the funniest looking silver cain looking
fish with a 15lb laker was on the end........
Boy we figured no one would believe us so we keep it quit until
now.. As we went back up the beach and I explain that to my friend
that he left the fish when he took the soike he started to laugh
as he pointed to MY FISH ON THE SAME SPIKE splashing away.
But my two fish tried to go in opposite directions and they never
moved .....
Boy believ it or not!! Its a true one Just ask ken this summer
at the dec bass Tournament.
Bassin Bob Puishys!
|
| 267.7 | I almost did not get away | PUNDIT::HART | King Of Hearts | Fri Mar 06 1987 16:28 | 51 |
|
When I was 14 I went to stay at my cousins house in Quincy Ma.
for a couple of weeks in the summer. He had a 14' aluminum skiff
with a small outboard motor(I forget the horsepower). We would
get up with the tide in the morning and go out onto Quincy bay to
catch flounder. One day we went out and did not catch anything all
morning, then just as we were going to call it quits for the day,
I hooked on to an eel, what a mess those bastards make of a flounder
set up, it wrapped its slimy body all around the two leads and the
sinkers. Then my cousin hooks into somthing, he has two of the greasy
beasts on his line.
We were real close to an old pier near the Fore River bridge
and under that pier is where the biggest water rats in the world
live. They look like small dogs. Did you ever see a basset hound?
Well on that particular day two of these aquatic canines were
watching us bring in some of thier slimy dinner out of the water
into the boat and they started swimming towards us. On about this
time we were in the middle of untangleing the mess and butchering
those ugly creatures. It was not easy. So busy were we that we did
not see the huge rats swimming in our direction. When they got to
within 30 yards or so we finaly noticed them and we thought it was
funny that they seemed to be coming toward us. It was not funny
for very long, we both got scared at about the same time , he
went to the motor and started pulling, I grabbed an oar and stood
waiting. Buy now they were only about 15 yrds away and ugly puke
yellow teeth and large clawed feet was all I could see.
Of course the motor would not start because the plug was fouled
and the dam rats were on us attacking the boat trying to get on
board. I was furiously slamming them on the thick skull with the
oar that I held like a bat. Water was splashing the rats were
biting and clawing trying to get on. My cousin grabs an oar and
joins in the fight but those beasts were not going to give up. More
were coming out from under the pier to join them. We started sreaming
for help saying over and over that the rats were trying to kill
us. They were biting and knawing and grunting. I almost defacated.
Fortunatly the locale harbor patrol was on its way in from out
on the bay and saw what was happening, I dont think he heard us
but the way we were swining those oars and splashing it must have
looked pretty strange. The patrol boat got close enough and the
skipper pulled out his revolver and blasted a hole through the
back of one of them rats and it sunk like a rock. The other turned
away and started swimming back to the pier.
The harbor master asked us if we needed a tow and we said yes.
On the ways in we noticed that we were taking on lots of water and
nearly in danger of sinking. We made it in and when we inspected
the boat we found a hole had been knawed into the bow, Jaws style,
with a couple of ugly yellow rat teeth still stuck to it.
Believe me its true!
|
| 267.8 | Closet Authors... | TORA::SCHOLZ | Ron....and thanks for all the fish | Fri Mar 06 1987 16:51 | 8 |
| Some of you should take writing up as a profession, and some of
you should find the local/line key on your terminals.
I'll let you'al figure out whos who.......;^)
tight lines, Ron
keep them coming, this is almost as good as Dave Barry
|
| 267.9 | Flying pickerel!!? | SUCCES::BURTON | | Tue Mar 10 1987 12:07 | 25 |
|
I shouldn't put this here cause none of you will believe it, but
here goes anyway.
Last spring (middle of may) I was fishin from a canoe of shore from
my Dad's camp. I was using a medium, white, rooster tail. Just casting
and retrieving and not paying much attention to actually fishin.
I had been catching some perch and many small pickerel (5-8 inches)
I had seen some bigger pickerel following the lure up to the canoe
and vear off. I really wasn't that concerned with catchin anything.
After about an hour and a half of this I decided to pack up and
head back to camp for a brew. I propped my pole behind me with the
rooster tail danglin about an inch from the tip and over 3 feet
from the surface of the lake. I hadjust started to paddle when I
heard a "ting" and my pole started to slide down. I looked back
and I had a 28 inch pickerel jumpin thrashing on the end of my line.
He had jumped over three feet out of the water and grabbed the rooster
tail firmly as all three hooks were stuck thru his top and bottom
jaw. My dad doesn't believe me nor any of my friends. My wife says
"yes dear" and wanders off into another room whenever I insist
this did really happen. IT REALLY DID!
Rob
|
| 267.10 | old re-runs | AIMHI::TOMAS | Joe | Tue Mar 10 1987 12:23 | 38 |
|
I originally posted this in #130.2, but it needs to be revived,
so here it is.
<<< MSEE::USER$1:[NOTES$LIBRARY]FISHING.NOTE;1 >>>
-< FISHING THE LEISURE SPORT >-
================================================================================
Note 130.2 Fishy Jokes 2 of 20
ASGMKA::TOMAS "Joe" 25 lines 29-MAY-1986 12:35
-< A TRUE STORY (ha...ha) >-
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's a fairly well known fact that the average muskie fisherman
will fish for up to 100 hours before catching a muskie, if he even
sees one.
Well, one day this fellow in Wisconsin was out in his boat casting
for hours trying to catch the elusive fish. He glanced up to shore
and noticed a big old log lying in the water, and upon further
inspection, noticed a small hickory nut lying in the water right
next to the log. Apparently this great big grey squirrel up on
the bank noticed it as well, as he promptly scurried down the log
to retrieve this tasty morsel.
All of sudden, the water next to the log erupted as a four foot
muskie that was lying under the shade of the log jumped out, grabbed
the squirrel and swam off. Well...the fisherman, needless to say,
was absolutely astounded at the size of this enourmous fish. He
tried casting repeatedly to entice the muskie to his lure but to
no avail.
A few moments later, he noticed a V-shaped wake heading towards
the log. He couldn't believe his eyes. There was that four foot
muskie again....placing the hickory nut up against the log....
-Joe-
|
| 267.11 | One Smart Fish | PSYCHE::DECAROLIS | | Tue Mar 10 1987 12:48 | 7 |
|
RE: 10
So thats why they say fish is brain food.
Jeanne
|
| 267.12 | A REAL FISHSTORY! | HPSCAD::BPUISHYS | Bob Puishys | Wed Mar 18 1987 16:03 | 12 |
|
According to the
Century Book of Facts,
a pike was caught in 1497 in a lake
near Heilbronn, West Germany.
A brass ring attached to it
claimed that it had been placed
in the lake during the year 1230.
|
| 267.13 | | AIMHI::TOMAS | Joe | Wed Mar 18 1987 16:12 | 2 |
| You believe that and I've got an ancient surface plug dated 18 B.C.
I'll sell you!
|
| 267.14 | | JAWS::WIERSUM | | Thu Mar 19 1987 09:52 | 10 |
|
Joe, when I sold that plug to you, I distinctly told you it was a
COUNTDOWN.
Garry leavin in the A.M. for Westpoint and points south
:')
|
| 267.15 | TRUE FACTS | JETSAM::COREY | Making last week, yesterday, today! | Thu Mar 19 1987 11:04 | 18 |
| A QUIET DAY OF FISHING AT THE BROOK, ER RIVER, ER...
It was a nice day so I decided to go down to the pool, er pond, er LAKE for
some fishing. Yea, LAKE MICHIGAN! So I took my little Jon, er Ranger
yea RANGER HATTERAS YACHT and slipped it on the top of the car, a Pinto,
er Pontiac...PONTIAC CONTINENTAL!
So I'm out on lake Boon, er MICHIGAN and throw a worm, ah salamander,
er RATTLER on the hook and drop it over the side. Nothing much for a while
and then I get a little tug, er yank, ahh WINCHED outa my seat! I fought
that fish for 5 min, er hours, ah 5 DAYS before I got him aboard! What
a fish! To keep from getting pulled into the rocks, ah rapids er
WATERFALLS I had to start my little 4 h.p, outboa, er inboard, yea - my
twin 3000 hp DIESEL INBOARDS!! I finally landed him and the warden said
it was a 5 lb, er 50lb, um 550 pound BASS! Well it was time to go
home since it was getting cloudy and dark from the approaching front,
ah rainstorm, er FRONTAL TORNADO RAINSTORM and I didn't want to get caught
out in it with my big record breaking Bass, er Bonito, ah BARRACUDA!
|
| 267.16 | Son, we talking BIG here!!! (per Roland) | CANDY::MERCURIO | | Thu Mar 19 1987 11:27 | 1 |
| err...ahh..yea, yea, that's it!!!
|
| 267.17 | De ole yaller watchdog | DPDMAI::BEAZLEY | | Wed Aug 19 1987 22:00 | 24 |
| Me,I know dis aint bout fishin, but de peoples in ia am gud fishin buddies ob
mine:
Wun tim Jean-Baptiste an me com bak frum de -�dawg fites an we brought
oursefs to Rene Boudreau's pleece. It are a kinda saloon-type bar down near
Ville Platte.
Wen we com in to de pleece we see an ogly ole yaller dawg settin dere. He was
yaller wit a long nose an no ears an no hair, de ogliest dawg me, I eber seen!!
We ast Rene wat de Hell dat wuz an he say it wuz a "watchdog". We don figure
he much ob a "watchdog" if he don move wen we com in. Beside he de ogliest
dawg dat I eber seen!!
Purty soon Jean-Baptiste say he gonna fin out how gud a "watchdog" he are. He
go to de truk an get his biggest an meanest fitin dawg. Wen he brang him
in he won to tear dat yaller dawg to pieces. Rene say "Jean-Baptiste, chew
betta keep dat fitin dawg bak frum my "watchdog"". An Jean-Baptiste say "Mebbe
dat ole dawg too ole, mebbe he cant see my fitin dawg". Den Jean-Baptiste move
op real close wit de fitin dawg on de rope an WHOOM!!! De "watchdog" don eat
op de fitin dawg. Jean-Bapitiste say "Ah mon, whot chew do. Dat wuz de bes
fitin dawg in all ob Evangeline Parrish an dat "watchdog" don eat him op!!".
I say "Rene wot kinda dawg wuz dat, anyhow??" Rene say" Me, I dunno, but befo
we cut his tail off an paint him yaller, he wuz an allegator!!"
Coonass
|
| 267.18 | The truth is stranger than fiction ! | HEFTY::CUZZONES | It's too late to stop now..... | Mon Sep 14 1987 09:23 | 45 |
|
<<< HYDRA::DISK$NOTES$LIBRARY:[NOTES$LIBRARY]DAVE_BARRY.NOTE;1 >>>
================================================================================
Note 345.0 Attacked By a Fish No replies
RIPPLE::KOTTERRI "Rich Kotter 406-248-1863" 87 lines 14-SEP-1987 03:34
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PENNSYLVANIA LADY ATTACKED BY MUSKIE
And Other Exciting Animal Stories
It is time once again for our popular feature, "Animals Making the
News," featuring heartwarming true stories about the wacky antics
of our comical cousins in the animal kingdom, such as the fish
that tried to kill the woman in Pennsylvania. We are not making
this wacky antic up. Here is a direct quotation from the award-winning
Philadelphia Inquirer: "A fish, believed to be a muskellunge, knocked
a 19 year old Bucks County woman unconscious when it leaped out
of the Delaware River and struck her in the head and chest."
Notice that the story says "believed to be a muskellunge." This
prompts me to remind you readers, once again, of a fundamental Crime
Stopper Tip: If you or someone you know is assaulted by a fish,
ALWAYS TRY TO GET AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTION. The police are not going
to waste their time looking for a fish "believed to be" a muskellunge,
because the case would never stand up in court:
DEFENSE ATTORNEY: Mrs. Jones, are you CERTAIN that it was THIS
muskellunge who attacked you?
VICTIM: Yes, I am.
DEFENSE ATTORNEY: Well perhaps it will interest you to learn, Mrs.
Jones, that this is actually the defendant's BROTHER, Maurice.
(Bedlam erupts in the courtroom. The defense lawyer triumphantly
slams his briefcase shut, killing Maurice.)
<Remainder, not pertaining to fish or fishing, deleted. For details,
see hydra::dave_barry.>
|
| 267.19 | DE retriever cat | DPD03::BEAZLEY | | Fri Oct 23 1987 22:00 | 22 |
| Me, I jes don no if dis are de plaice, sance ole Coonass, he don
tell no "fictinal stories", but cheer go...
Wun time, I have a fran name Jolie an his wife-spous name Ann-Marie.
She got sum firy temper, huh!! She get so mad wan Jolie go fishin
dat dere no gogo roun his hous for mebbe three or two week..
So eber tim ole Jolie go fishin he go way bak in de woods to clean
de fish. Dis are fine cept eber time Ann-Marie's cat brang bak de
fish head in its mouf and scratch on de door. Wan Ann-Marie see
dat she go foonchock. She jump all ober Jolie. Eber time Jolie go
deeper in de wood an eber time dat cat brang back de fish head in
its mouf.
Wall wun time Jolie tink mebbe he stop dis so he take dat cat way
bak in de wood, furter dan he eber had before an he chop off de
cats head.
De next mornin he hear a scratchin on de bak door and dere wuz de
cat....wit his head in its mouf.....
Now dats de truth.....wud ole Coonass make dat op??
|
| 267.20 | K-Mart won't check me out | GENRAL::HUNTER | from SUNNY Colorado, Wayne | Fri Feb 19 1988 16:54 | 32 |
| Well, this isn't fiction, but it is funny enough to enter in
the fish story file:
Last night I went down to my local K-Mart store to purchase
a bunch of trailer baits for the spinner baits. I was looking for
the BIGGEST bag of last years rubber trailers of any kind that I
could find. Well, I found a bag that was about 8" long by 6 inches
in diameter that had a bunch of HOG FROGS of different colors along
with worms, Jig curly-tails, super-shads, etc. So, I decided that
that looked like what I wanted.
I picked up the bag and a jar of 1/2 price scent and headed
for the check-out counter. When I get to the counter, I flop the
bag of plastic baits on the counter and set the jar down beside
it. The checker (a female) grabs the jar of scent and keys it in.
She then grabs the bag of rubber things. As she turns the bag over
to find the price, she starts to recognize what is in the bag.
The next thing I know, the bag is flying through the air toward
one of the other checkers and the woman checking me out is headed
out of the check-out isle at full speed. Well, the bag hits on
the counter over one from where I am. This checker, also female,
reaches for the bag. As her hand gets about 2 inches from the bag,
she suddenly jerks it back very quickly as she realizes what is
staring at her out of the bag. Well, since neither checker would
touch the bag and there were only 2 checkers, they called the manager
over to check me out. The manager on duty was also female. As
she reaches for the bag, one of the guys in line, a sometimes practical
joker, pokes the bag and makes one of the frogs move inside it.
The manager lets out a shriek and heads for the sporting goods
department. By this time, all of the guys in line to check out
are in full stitches. A few minutes later, one of the male stockers
from the sporting goods department shows up and checks me out.
By the time I left the store, my ribs ached.
|
| 267.21 | | SALEM::RIEU | Who gets custody of Chuck Sullivan? | Mon May 16 1988 10:25 | 118 |
| <<< HYDRA::DISK$NOTES$LIBRARY:[NOTES$LIBRARY]DAVE_BARRY.NOTE;1 >>>
-< Dave Barry - Noted humorist >-
================================================================================
Note 420.0 Dave Goes Fishin' for Shark No replies
PARITY::LANGR "Russ Lang, Tewksbury A18" 111 lines 16-MAY-1988 09:50
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cowering Journalist Caught Up In Nabbing Noble Fish
by Dave Barry
[Knight-Ridder News Service without permission.]
Like many people, I have had a lifelong yearning to give up my
humdrum daily existence and go to sea and get one or more of my
hands bitten off. This is how I found myself recently in a shark-
fishing tournament. It was run by a University of Miami marine
biologist, Dr. Samuel H. "Sonny" Gruber, who actually likes
sharks.
"I've worked with them so long," he says, "they're almost like
family."
He's not kidding. In a recent article for Natural History
magazine, Gruber described how he and an assistant roped a large
pregnant lady lemon shark to the side of their boat, after which
Gruber reached inside the shark's birth canal and pulled out nine
little baby sharks.
I read this article to my 7-year-old son, who listened in
trancelike amazement.
"Would you do that to a shark?" I asked him.
"I wouldn't do that to a human," he said.
Exactly. For most of us, our natural reaction to a shark is to
want to shoot it with the largest available bazooka. Yet Sonny
Gruber cheerfully sticks his hand into a fairly intimate shark
location and helps produce more sharks. His feeling is that we
human beings need to be more sympathetic toward sharks, because
they are an important part of nature's delicate ecological
balance, as you know if you saw the fine nature film "Jaws II,"
where a shark the size of Syracuse, N.Y. eats several teen-agers
and a helicopter. Without sharks participating in the Great Food
Chain, the world would soon be overrun with helicopters and
teen-agers. It already is, in certain shopping malls.
So anyway, to do his research, Gruber needs shark specimens,
which is why, once a year, he semireluctantly sponsors the shark-
fishing tournament. It attracts an extremely masculine group of
anglers. You know those testosterone-soaked beer commercials,
where the burly All-American, hard-workin', wage-earnin', jeans-
wearin', cow-liftin' men come in from a hard day of ridin' around
the prairie capturin' escaped heifers one-handed, and they go into
the tavern to drink beer and grin wildly at each other, and they
have to sit sideways at the table because their shoulders are so
broad? Well, those men are brie-eatin', tutu-wearin', Donahue-
watchin' wimps compared with the men who angle in a shark-fishing
tournament. So naturally I fit right in.
I went out with a professional fisherperson named Mark
Quartiano, who is known as Mark the Shark, because that is his
specialty. He has arms the size of municipal water tanks. I became
acutely aware of this during the tournament, when I was clinging
to a stubby fishing rod, trying desperately to reel in what felt
like a 1958 Buick. The largest fish I had ever caught before that
was called a "crappie," which has about the size and fighting
strength of a harmonica. If you pulled too hard on the line, your
crappie would came flying out of the water, sail over your head
and wind up dangling from the tree behind you, like some kind of
Jungle Hanging Fish.
But this thing I was hauling up in the shark tournament had
parasites bigger than a crappie. And although, through years of
rigorous daily word-processing, I have developed forearms the size
of pepperonis, I was having trouble turning the crank on the reel.
"Can I crank with both hands?" I asked.
"No!" said Mark the Shark. "No weenies!"
And so, spurred by the intense Male Peer Pressure that causes
guys to do ludicrous macho Guy Stuff such as dive off bridges and
send troops to obscure, humid nations, I managed to haul in this
fish. It was a beauty. It was roughly the size of Mario Cuomo. It
even looked like Mario Cuomo, especially around the mouth. Mark
the Shark told me it was an "amberjack" around 80 pounds. I was
very proud. I wanted to get it mounted and hang it in my den, even
though this would mean I'd have to build a den.
But you know what we ended up doing with this fish, which I
risked permanent arm damage for? We used it for bait. Yes. We
impaled poor old Mario on hooks large enough to suspend a forklift
from, and we put him back in the water, and late that night we
hauled in a 10-foot, 315-pound, fairly annoyed shark. Actually, we
did not do this. They did this, while I watched from a higher deck
(known, in nautical parlance, as the "cowering journalist deck").
Unfortunately, our shark was not large enough to win the
tournament, but I'm sure it will help Sonny Gruber increase our
knowledge about these noble creatures, which are so misunderstood.
Did you know that shark attacks are actually very rare, and that
you're safer swimming among sharks than driving to the beach?
Well, it's a true Shark Fact, and I'm sure it will serve as a
great comfort to you, next time you find yourself in the ocean.
Notice I say "you".
=========================================================================
From: DECWRL::"[email protected]" "Steven W. Grabhorn 14-May-88
0956 PDT" 14-MAY-1988 12:57
To: [email protected]
Subj: Dave goes fishing
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