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Manual de Lanzado Falsecast
Monday: Paul Arden
Friday 27th May, 2011
What the hell, this is how I want to go!Well the rapture did not take me, and I am very glad to see that very few if any fly fishers fell for this line of thought . Though it does seem I will suffer until 21 October, and then, God is calling for the end of all fishing seasons! I may have an issue with that! And suffering we are at least here SWAB torrential rains have hit the East Slopes I did however find a gear chucker under the Oldman river bridge, hiding from the rain and mumbling that he would catch something today, modern day prophet looking for a free ride to the loony bin if you ask me. The Oldman River was running over the banks and a dark cream coffee colour, if I was on the banks of the Crow I would have tried to fish but here in the city I would have gotten hooked up in the 56 Buick floating down the river and been dragged to purgatory or Saskatchewan, I think I would prefer purgatory to SASK in a wet spring, not even the most furious religious punishment could include 14lb mosquitoes with rusty hypodermic needles for sucking blood. With this miserable weather and of course the imaginary global warming crisis, the news of several of my fly fishing cohorts life and health issues it seems of course appropriate that I have one of my own FFS I read over an MRI report from 2009 and noted a very interesting word that I had not noticed before “schwannoma” almost seems like a bike I should or should not be riding. Well with the advent of the evil World Wide Web I get the benefits of instant information. Well shit . wish I had waited for the Doctors visit. Well I have a quickie visit with him and hopefully get this straightened out quickly, I only have until Oct 21 remember, and who the hell want to get rapture’d with a pain in their back. All this will not stop me from fly fishing Ok maybe slow me down some, but I have my own prophet and she has already seen how I go out of this world, I have presented my own version here, only slightly different from Mother Annabelles’ How I go to my just rewardsI am about 98 years old, sitting on the bank of my favorite Trout stream, with my German Shepherd Fischer III, beside me, my Grandfathers 1956 Hardy Del-luxe bamboo fly rod in my Right hand, silk fly line trailing in the water with a 9ft leader and no tippet, the broken off fly swimming away hooked in the mouth of a 22in Cutthroat, burnt out butt of a great cigar in my left hand, that is wrapped around my promotion from Mcpl to Sgt Flask which has one last drop of good Scotch drying in the bottom. I have a Hickey down there, you know where down there, I was wet wading after all; the hickey is from my 26 year old girlfriend, whom I satisfied 3 times the night before. Pity she passed away just after the third time due to exhaustion. She did not get to see how happy I am at this final moment. BTW it was not satisfying her that killed me this fine morning, my heart finally gave out after fighting off a Grizzly bear for my last piece of porter house steak, and eggs from the grill that I carried 7 km up the river.. My wife has had a very realistic and recurring dream about how I die, and it follows the above very closely but my girlfriend is 30....
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