Way out in the Mid-West there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of the Carp Hunter. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. The Carp Hunter he called himself the Carp Hunter. Now, the Carp Hunter — he didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.
I want to go fishing there. There’s no lures, no waking up at ass-crack of dawn to catch the fish before they have their morning coffee, no waiting for hours while your line gets tangled in whatever debris litters the bottom of the life-less lake, just plain fishing. You go for a short ride and come home with enough fish to give the local wildlife preservationist a heart attack. Short of fishing with dynamite, this is the only way to roll. Let the fish do all the work while you drift by, sipping a warm beer, and getting a nice tan. If fishing was always like this, I feel people would be more inclined to go out and fish a little instead of doing absolutely anything else.
Fishing suffers from many of the same problems as baseball and soccer because they’re all horrendously boring to talk about, think about, participate in, and watch. Those looking to access a zen-like state of tranquility might enjoy fishing for all the reasons I just mentioned, but those sorts of people should be shunned from polite society. Us normal fun-loving, oxygen-breathing, non-reptilian people prefer to do things with our lives instead of sitting around for hours while the world spins madly on. We like to be the ones compelling the world to spin madly on instead of simply surrendering to it. Having the emotional sophistication of a Buddhist Frenchman is never a good quality.
If I must fish, I will do it by electrifying the lake and collecting the stunned inhabitants with a net, or I will descend into the depths with a bowie knife and return when I’ve finished filleting the wildlife.
A 600 pound marlin decided he had a few questions.
- Was there something you wanted?
- Are you talking to me?
- Can I help you?
- You want a piece of me?
- Would you like to go home and get your big brother?
- Do I hear your mother calling you?
- Got any more bait…
(Thanks to Charles Schneider for sending that one along)
The mundane is an art, if you’re an artist.