Looks like a certain angling sychophant turns 419 years old today. I think that merits a sub-standard water and a clappy, one-off birthday call-and-response at Red Robin. Good book, by the way, no matter what Norman McClean’s dad says. Advertisements
Perhaps I should ask mega-killer soccer extraordinaire and ambidextrous tour -de-force of the Olympics Megan Rapinoe when she gets back here. I doubt I can get her to go Tenkara fishing with me, but I’ll bet I can get an … Continue reading
My Dear Lucy, I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it … Continue reading
Editor/writer’s caveat emptor: this piece, satirical and immature as it may be, was the way I took to writing about things Of which my grasp was, as some arrogant barrister would say, prima facie. This was truly written many years … Continue reading
I do this so that the few of you who have asked. Yes, I’ve made a living at this. Not so much anymore, with the exception of the occasional show. Hope you like it.