Fishing Poet is Ruined… and we’re ever so glad.

Double haul lay it down now stripstripnowbumpbumpbumpbump everything halts my heart my breath my eyesight all hope for another day on this planet my mind empty but for the noise of adrenaline car battery and cables jumpstart arc between my ears suddenly airborne airborne airborne reeling off yards everything un-halted multiplied the silver exponent I’m not ruined but I’m damn close. More…

All I have to say is, “See? This is what I’ve been saying.”

Of course, I’m very happy more people don’t tarpon fish, because then I’d be jealous of or hate more people that catch fish when I don’t/can’t/just-plain-suck. Still, nice to read the first hand impression. Sort of like watching a rare troglodyte watch The Matrix for the first time. You can’t help but smile when they get mind_ _ _ _ ed that first time… you know, when Neo’s mouth grows shut and you’re like, “WTF!?!?! No one said anything about this!”

In case you’re wondering about the rant above—thinking: don’t be a hater, dude—check out my tarpon season here.

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