Oct 27 2009 11:11 am

good light

Don’t they know I live hand to mouth, pay check to pay check, cracked out truck stop men’s room blow job to cracked out truck stop men’s room blow job?  They promise me new zip front waders, new wading boots, and a new Predator 6wt, then they renege.  Nothing for you.  Something fell through.  Suck my cock.  We didn’t actually like your website anyway.

So this is a big Fishbeer fuck you to Redington.  Fuck you Redington.  I’m pretty sure your rods are pieces of shit anyway.  

On a lighter note, guess who was in town for a visit?  No, but you’re close.  It was MB Pell!  All the way live from inside the beltway, a mover, a shaker, an inspector of rape kits and the Public Integrity lest they be tampered with.  We fished for wiper like our life depended on it and didn’t catch a single one despite two being hooked.  After the creeks came down we finally got into some smallmouth on Sunday. 

Of course, despite the bad fishing (cough cliché cough), we still had a great time (cough cliché cough), what with the drinking, the drugs, the overeating, and the absurd conversations.

Never mind the devil’s tackle.  Mike is a man of the people.  Go Phils.


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