Jun 10 2010 12:28 am
Dry flies on the Henry’s Fork in late May and early June are a rite of passage for any aspiring fly angler worth his salt. I was lucky enough to partake in this soul stirring ritual at some not low level of proficiency over the past several days. It stirred my soul. Like laxatives.
Like two naïve parents on Christmas Eve the bright, life-stimulating sunshine conspired with ideal water levels to provide a cornucopia of joy the psychological consequences of which can only be understood after long sessions of talk therapy or better yet regular administrations of powerful psychotropic substances such as are contained in various species of mushrooms and cacti and synthetic imitations thereof.
After administration of said drugs for best results the subject should be locked in a small room with stagnant air and hard floors and hard walls and asked deeply probing questions about their personality and how they perceive themselves in various social interactions that had been surreptitiously recorded over the previous several weeks.
Of particular instruction will be “bank episode #2” wherein during a routine check deposit transaction the subject was asked if he had made any decision regarding overdraft protection on his debit card. The subject can be seen in the video answering: “Chase fucked me over so bad with that shit last September that I’ll be closing my account with you long before that decision has to be made. Pig fucker. Where do you get off lording over that poor teller acting like you’re some sort of pillar of the community all smiles and handshakes when I’m pretty sure you’re just the sellout pig fuck face of the too-big-to-fail corporation?”
“Grocery store creep montage” will also be of some use during “treatment” as the subject can be seen in a rapid fire montage staring at various women’s parts of interest in the grocery store for what is probably too long and in too obvious a manner to be excusable as good red blooded American male behavior. From perky fifteen year olds to obviously homeless meth addled grandmothers the subject’s lechery is without discrimination and will surely provoke a powerful emotional response in him.
Thirdly, recordings of phone calls the subject had participated in can be played back at loud volume.
In combination, the forced witnessing of “shameful” personal episodes and the vastly disorienting sharp introspective focus said psychotropic drugs produce will likely cause the subject to weep uncontrollably and attempt to assemble a loosely coherent rationalizing narrative regarding the building blocks of his personality such that he can maintain “personhood” and not completely “lose his shit.” Only at this time should the subject be informed that in fact swarms of two inch long orange and black salmonflies did not flop awkwardly on the water and disappear in the vortices of twenty inch rainbows. Rather, he should be informed there were record rains this spring in Idaho, the rivers were mostly blown out and rubber leg stoneflies were dredged under golfball sized bobbers for three days except for the few hours when pride was swallowed and fat post-spawn cutts were picked off in the shallows of a very cold lake.
The subject should also be informed that he caught some slob brown trout, greatly enjoyed his father and brother’s company and met some good people on the Henry’s Fork. This will constitute a “breakthrough” and the subject should pick himself up off the floor, quit his whining, defend his lechery as typical male behavior and move to Michigan.
Thanks for the incredible trip Dad.