ness

He'd go broke trying to eat steak with them every night.

Hoglaw -- did the same as you. I need glasses for distance, and can't wear contacts, so I popped for prescription polarized amber. Pretty expensive but I've had them for approximately 10 years. People always say they won't pay up for expensive sunglasses because they'll lose them. I always say once you pop for them you think about them differently and don't leave them laying around where they'll get lost or stepped on. I've always got them on a lanyard thingy too, and they're always in the case when I'm not wearing them. Mine aren't wrap around, but they do have wide sides -- which is nice for cutting out sun coming in from the side. moguy1973 -- I gotta find some cat crap -- fogging is always a problem for me. BTW -- skin cancer isn't something to take lightly. It's not just cutting off a mole or a spot and having a scar. That stuff can metastasize quickly and end up in places that'll kill you quick.

Dang. Oh, I guess I already said that.

Ha! Not a word you run into, well, ever. I had a boss years ago that would toss that one out there all the time.

Dang, ducky. Weather's been pretty screwy up here. Cold, hot, cold. Like JD -- it's greening up pretty good and making it tougher. Found one gray last weekend, and now we're looking at snow.

The outriggers? Not mine -- just grabbed it off the web.

I think we're looking at a defalcation here, boys. I'm gonna dust off my skiptracing skills and get back to you.

One of my favorite ways to fish flat water. I also take it to the pool and watch chicks.

I keep telling JD he needs to wall off his property. About 8 feet high ought to do it. Maybe some strategically placed arrow slits ad a drawbridge.

This may help:

So, uh....

Just a Cub Scout selling popcorn, and I've still got some from 1995. Anyway, it all turned out to be an elaborate practical joke. Nixon released Danielle and we all had a good laugh. Oh hell, there goes the red phone.

Johnson rose and strode to the front of the room with a non-filtered cigarette in one hand and a tumbler of Cutty in the other. He reached up for a string and dramatically pulled down a map of Africa, nearly losing his balance in the process. He looked intently at each of us in succession, then back to the map. Seeing it was not the map he intended, he let out a string of profanities that was heard throughout the restaurant. Senator Byrd rushed to help, repeatedly pulling strings until he found the map of Dallas. Clearly marked in red was a route heading north, with a sharp left turn to the southwest. Just beyond the bend, a red x was drawn through the route line. A shriek filled the room and all heads turned towards the sound. Behind the curtain was a struggle then a loud grunt. A man staggered out, doubled over in pain, followed by my beautiful, but hysterical, Danielle. I headed toward her, but Gehrke and Orvis blocked my way. I jumped up, and grabbed the chandelier. Pushing off the table with my feet, I swung backward then forward extending my feet in front of me. It must have been a pretty good shot, because all the men fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious. Danielle headed toward me, arms outstretched, but a sudden jerk of her head revealed her hair had been grabbed from behind. As I moved toward her, a hand was clapped over her mouth and a gun was put to her temple. As the man began to peer out from behind her head the first thing to come out of the shadows was a long, sloping nose. Crap -- doorbell.

C'mon man, this is serious.

Sorry -- I had a visitor. I had been in deep cover for months, attempting to infiltrate a radical and secretive group known as the Reorganized Provisional John Birch Society. I had earned their trust through a series of carefully staged events (which I still cannot discuss) and was to meet them in New Orleans to assist them with the finalization of their plans -- plans I had successfully convinced them I knew, even though I did not. I gave a pass to the goon at the door and entered the small back room at Brennan's. The smell of chicory and sardou filled the air. I had learned early in my training to ooze confidence and command a room as means to disarm suspecting enemies. I knew anything less with these men would insure my death, and those of many other patriots. I casually scanned the room and nodded, but inside my mind raced. A lesser man would have gasped at this sight, but not I: Lyndon Johnson, Robert Byrd D-WV, SantoTrafficante (LCN), Fidel Castro, William Westmoreland, Pete Lavigne (CEO of General Dynamics), Howard Hughes, George Gehrke (of Gink fame), and Chip Orvis V (great great grandson of Charles). In other words, some of the most powerful men on the planet and/or in fly-fishing retail. Gotta hop -- more to come.

The Cold War was reaching a crescendo that spring as I careened toward graduation from medical school. My specialty in psychotropic medicine put me in high demand, and soon I was on my way to Washington. In those days, the training was much more demanding than it is now, both physically and emotionally. When it was over I was immediately whisked into a shadowy world where no one could be trusted, the scar on my left cheek the only reminder of who I was and where I'd been. My new wife was an heir to the DuPont fortune, a former Miss Delaware and a Boston Patriots cheerleader. We were deeply in love. Between my assignments, we would vacation at our summer cottage in Newport and dream of the day when I could leave that life to fully devote myself to our philanthropic endeavors, restoration of our historic home and, most importantly, to her. Sadly, it was not to be. Four shots from a Mannlicher-Carcano changed that forever. Sorry -- can't finish this right now. I'll try and pick it up later.

Nobody else had a voice like that. RIP George

It is a great story -- but seeing in the NY Times, grip-and-grins all over the net with 20+ pound fish, the tribe charging admission, dudes on ladders. I dunno -- kinda takes some of the shine of it for me. I'd rather hit a trib than stand on a ladder.

Yeah -- neat to see those native cutts brought back. I hadn't heard the story of the Pilot Peak strain. Getting a 100% DNA match is pretty remarkable. Neat addition to the story Al too. Anyway to show us your painting? I wonder if Tomelleri has done one...

Yeah -- we got a freeze last night, but it's sposta warm back up.

I've heard that recommended before, quill. Gotta check that out too.

Didn't find many, but made the most of what I had. Morels on homemade ciabatta (toasted) with asparagus from the garden. Nothing else but butter, salt and pepper.

Congrats Phil. I think they missed a whole bunch in the article, but heck, you take what you get. How many grandbabies is that now?

Thanks, Al. That's my kinda stuff. They're all rated highly on Amazon.