Monthly Archives: June 2008

Monkeys fish, why can’t I?

OKay so it’s late.  The good news is that there is a fierce thunderstorm going on outside ushering in some cooler air for us folks in the Northeast….

So I am sitting here and in between looking at multiple weather radar sites (yes I still am addicted to the weather) what do i find – yep an article about monkeys that fish and actually catch fish!

Now when I think about my fishing prowess I now have to change the ranking scale.  For years I had myself in front of monkeys – but no, lo and behold there are these indonesian silver haired fishing macaques( Sounds like some bad country group to me) who fish.  What I don’t understand is who is making their fishing rods for them the damn gorillas?  There’s probably some sweat shop set up and staffed with a bunch of young rhesus monkeys turning out fishing rods for the damn silver haired macaques.  I guess it’s better than ending up over your head in formaldehyde waiting to be dissected by 10th graders.

Back to the monkeys – so now in my fishing ranking chart the monkeys have moved ahead of me.  Shit, good thing squirrels don’t know how to fish – do they?  

Enough nonsense….off to dream about landing the big kahuna of fish.  cheers 


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So is it hot enough for ya?

Hey New Englanders, how many times have you heard that in the last few days?  Sure it’s hot, not nearly as hot as the tension I feel in the air.

People are showing signs of serious stress.  Between the heat,  gas prices, food prices, employment rates, foreclosures, Dubbya and his take on “high-dra-car-bins,” Iraq, the stock markets and having to mow the lawn peeps are not chillin with a positive groove.

Here’s the beautiful thing about a positive groove or as I like to call it – pozitood.

IT COSTS NOTHING!  Nope, not a cent – zippo, squat, null – nothing.

Folks, we need it more than ever.  We need to be chillin with a pozitoodinal groove.  We need to be sharing that pozitoodinal groove.

What’s the saying, ” you reap what you sow?”  I think that’s it.  Means that if you plant watermelons and expect to harvest corn you’re going to be disappointed. 

Bottom line is that if we demonstrate a pozitoodinal groove, we’ll get back a pozitoodinal groove.  Damn, if enough of us do it we can create an insurgence of pozitoodinal groovation.

I’ve always wanted to be an insurgent.  That’s right – we’ll be the pozitoodinal rebels.  Can you imagine, a wave of pozitoodinal energy sweeping across the country.  Talk about a breath of fresh air.

If we’re gonna be pozitoodinal rebels we’ll need one of dem death star thingees they had in Star Wars.  Except ours will be called the Life Star – it will still need to have one of those giant ray guns. 

I want one of the vader helmets too.  I can walk around and say, “the pozitoodinal force is strong with this one,” in my most bass sounding voice.

Whoa, that was a bit of a tangent…..

So take that medication, smoke that doobage, whatever it takes – find that pozitoodinal groove and share it with everyone.

PS – It’s really fucking hot today so make sure you double up on your deodorant cuz no one likes a stinky pozitoodinal rebel.



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Get your Cold Wet Nutz Here!

The monkeys flew at dawn, that was 3 hours after I was already awake and more than 2 hours after I was standing waist deep in a dark, cold, salty liquid otherwise known as the Atlantic ocean.  Sent here as some form of punishment for sins I have commited or will soon commit, sent here by Special K – he, the commander of the flying monkeys.

How I got here I do not know.  All I know is that the damn monkeys slept in and I was jealous.

The cold briny morass of darkness is all around me.  I can’t tell where the damn water ends and the sky begins.  I feel like a democrat torn between the Obama and Clinton camp.  I know I need to make a decision soon or the evil doers led by the kid most likely to lose at hide-and-seek is going to be leading us all into a haliburton sponsored hell.

Morass – I love that word for all the wrong reasons…

I stand waist deep, the damp coldness creeping up from my toes to my nuts.  A coldness I can only compare to diving into an icy lake on a February night in central Vermont after a long night in a sauna and a handful of synaptic provocateurs.  Even then the coldness took hold of my nutz and squeezed them for all they were worth.

In my right hand is the key to escape, its an LL Bean fly rod – and not a very good one according to Special K.  I know, deep in my heart that I will be forced to stand in this cold, large crab-eating aquatic beast infested pool until I am able to coerce one of the those crab-eating beasties onto a fly and onto the land for all to see or until the sun comes up and we know the breakfast place is open. 

The best thing about being cloaked in darkness is that fact no one can see the true level of my ineptitude with the fly rod.  About every three casts I manage to tie the fly line into a huge jumble of string in the line basket around my waist.  The jumble looks a lot like a Robin’s nest, only bigger.  That only happens when I am not busy catching the fly on my back or causing it to spin around my rod like a plane in a death spiral.

Coming Next Morning 2:  The art of stepping into cold, wet, sand encrusted waders at 3:15am

Final – Night 2:  The Art of casting a fly line with a 26 knot tail wind – otherwise known as – pissing in the wind.

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