Put down the slide ruler and grab your rod (phrasing). It's time to go fishing.

I'm a combination of Irish, German, and Norwegian, with a dash of Scottsmen. Each one of those nationalities has some good qualities to them. They also have some bad ones. I got all the bad ones.

I'm short-tempered, angry, cheap, and love my food shoved in casings. That being said I just don't have the temperament for fishing.

Every June 18th you're supposed to take time out of your busy schedule to go fishing. Yea, no. I'm going to take a hard pass on this and cook a burger instead.

My Grandfather would always take us fishing when the tractor was broken. He'd make my uncle Don fix the tractor while we went down the creek to see what we could catch. All I ever caught was mosquito bites. My little brother was in heaven standing on the side of the stream just casting away. Within in three casts, if I hadn't caught anything, I'd be done. I'd start bitching about the bugs biting me, and my grandfather would ask what bugs were biting, and then he'd switch his bait and then start catching fish. I was so happy that my sweet sugary blood and pain helped him catch fish. There came a point to when he stopped asking if I wanted to go fish.

"Yes, if you're talking about the card game. If it's crap you have to do outdoors, then it's a "HELL NO!"

My brother has since had a child and has taught her to fish. I felt bad for her.


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